


The Green

by HaraJorja



Series: No Ordinary Heart [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8573494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaraJorja/pseuds/HaraJorja
Summary: A spin off from 'No Ordinary Heart'. Set during time period after Albus's death.Follows Minerva as she deals with Albus's death and struggles with her new role as protector of Hogwarts.





	1. His Plan

**Author's Note:**

> All relationships and stories linked to 'No Ordinary Heart'.

 

_Don't look at him. Do not look at him._

Minerva sat straight backed, hands clasped together on her lap, repeating the words like a mantra. If she looked at him, she would explode. She would fight him and then she would die. He wouldn't kill her, good God no, he couldn't kill her- but his master could. She was under no illusions that she would be able to fight her way out of death with Riddle but she knew that she would be able to kill Snape with a flick of the wrist. It was deliciously tempting, that was for sure. To see him crumple before her eyes, limbs broken, head bleeding would be delightful but not at the cost of her own life. Not yet, anyway. Soon. But not yet. 

Instead, she sat with her colleagues, tight lipped and white faced but defiant. She knew that Snape sat in  _his_ seat, in Dumbledore's seat and was no doubt enjoying the feeling of superiority. He was probably sneering at them all, his thin lips spread in a smug smile as he looked down on those who had isolated him. There had been a time when she had felt sorry for him but now- Now she hated him with a fury that invaded her whole body. Albus had been a fool to trust him, why, so had she - how did they, two intelligent people, not see him for who he was? How did they allow him to marry their daughter? Would he have killed her if he had been ordered too? Could he kill Hermione? 

Poppy moved her hand under the table and squeezed Minerva's. She didn't look up but continued to look straight ahead, at the plain stone wall behind Slughorn's head. She could hear Snape drone on and on, a machine blurting out what has been fed into it. How much longer could she suffer this? How much longer would she be able to sit, not six feet apart, from the man who had killed her husband? She could feel her wand in her pocket, suddenly heavy and noticeable as if it were calling out to her, begging to be used. How easy it would be to grab it, pull it from her cloak in one swift motion and aim. She wouldn't even need to speak a word and he would be dead, gone from the world and good riddance. She closed her eyes, fighting her twitching hand, cursing herself-

"Minerva?" 

Snapping her eyes open, the voice made her skin crawl. "Yes, Severus?" She hissed, still not turning her head to look at him. 

"Do you agree?" 

"Agree to what?" 

"The timetable? You are on duty Thursday and Saturday nights."

"Do I have a choice?" She watched Horace's face widen with alarm and smirked a little. It was good to know that she still had some her gumption, after all she wasn't scared of Snape. She never would be. 

"Must you always be difficult?" He barked. 

She looked at him, turning her head quickly. Her green eyes blazed as she looked at him directly in his black, cold eyes, her mouth twisted upwards ever so slightly. He looked like he usually did - pale, pointed and sullen. To her satisfaction, he blanched slightly as she looked at him, obviously shocked to be looking straight at the woman he had widowed. "I agree to the rota...Snape," she smiled bitterly. "I'll wager that I will have bigger fights to pick." 

The two Carrow's, their dark faces twisted, rose suddenly from their seats. Minerva clutched at her wand as Poppy lifted herself slightly from the chair. She watched them, ready to fight in a split second should they move towards their wands, her heart pounding in her ears with excitement- she should like to teach them a lesson or two. Despite their spitefulness and obvious joy of cruelty, neither of them were particularly skilled or swift,Minerva and Poppy could have them on their knee's within a minute. As Minerva began to pull her wand from her pocket, Snape held out his hands between the brother and sister. 

"That is enough," he said slowly. "We have better things to do," he added to the siblings. 

"As do we," Minerva said pompously, rising to her feet. "I assume we are done, Severus? Yes, well, Madam Pomfrey and I have some matters to attend to. We will be in my office should anyone need us." 

They left quickly, Minerva marching into the corridor and around the corner as quickly as she could. She let out a breath and fell against the wall, letting go of her resolve as soon as she was certain that nobody but Poppy would see her crumble. She felt Poppy's hand squeeze her arm gently and she covered it with her own in thanks. 

"Oh, Poppy," she said. "That man!"

"You are handling yourself so very well," Poppy smiled. "The Minerva I knew years ago would have killed him on first sight." 

Minerva smiled wryly. "I'm tempted...more than tempted but something within me is stopping me. Before I had nothing to lose but now, well I can't leave this school on it's own can I? But, Poppy, it's so damn hard. That man killed my husband and he still walks the halls a free man. How can he have the gall to talk to me? To look at me even?" 

"Because he has the greatest of defenders and yours has gone." 

Minerva furrowed her thin brows - was that how the world saw her relationship with Albus? Had she been the damsel for most of her life? She suddenly thought of Grindelwald and the fight in the forest: Albus had stood in front of her, he had pushed her out of the way. And then there was the time with Riddle in the cottage; as he lifted his wand and Minerva prepared herself to die, it had been Albus who burst in and pulled her from the room. Oh, God and what about that night when she rid of the baby and she'd been dying? Albus had carried her! Albus had carried her all that way and brought her to the safety of Priscilla. All of her life, at every pivotal, life threatening moment it had been Albus who had saved her life. He had been the one to save her, every time. 

She didn't know if she should be angry or terrified. Part of her knew that if he were standing before her now, she would be screaming at him- why did he have to control everything? Why had he never allowed her to be brave and take the fate which was hers? But even as she thought it she knew it was irrational to be angry at someone for saving her life - several times. She supposed it was wounded pride, rather than irritation, that provoked her anger. She had always thought that she was strong and capable. More to the point, she had always thought that's what people thought of her but obviously she was wrong - everyone had always seen that Albus was the only reason she was still alive. 

But Albus wasn't here anymore, Albus couldn't save her. On her shoulders rested Hermione and the whole school. " _I need you here, Minerva, for when the end comes."_ Minerva could of laughed. He had had no idea what he was saying - she couldn't protect the school. She couldn't even protect herself. She was terrified, a war was coming and Albus was not here to fight it. He had obviously expected too much from her and he was wrong - she wasn't capable of fighting in his place. She was a pale, lifeless comparison to him, how had he made such a grave mistake? She was going to die, of course she would die fighting, but she was going to die without having saved anybody. Poppy was right: Minerva's defender was well and truly gone. 

"Yes," Minerva finally replied. "Mine has gone. Yours has gone. Everyone's has gone." 

"What do you mean?" 

She threw her hands up in the air. "Come on now! What the bloody hell can we do without Albus here? How are we supposed to win this?"

"Darling, you can't give up," Poppy said softly, though for a fleeting moment a look of fear lit up in her wide eyes. "We'll never win if you of all people give up. We're relying on you. Our captain is dead and now we look to you to lead your troops into battle." 

"What a poor substitute I am," Minerva laughed bitterly. "I can't do this. I can't even kill Snape like I should." 

"I wish my mother were here," Poppy snapped. "She wouldn't listen to this nonsense. Have I not got enough to do without soothing you? There is nothing wrong with you Minerva, you are clever, strong and your ability is near enough the same as Albus's. I will listen to you seethe about Severus; I will comfort you when you cry over Albus and I will listen when you speak about Eleanor but I will not be involved with this self pity thing. I haven't the patience, Minerva and nor would you."

Minerva smiled. "You're right. Positively right. What is the matter with me? I'll fight him, I'll fight him with my bare hands if I have too. I'll die but I'll have a bloody good time doing it!" She wasn't just saying it for Poppy, she did mean it. The determined streak in Minerva revelled at the thought of her words but the careful, thoughtful side of her was still concerned. 

"Albus wouldn't have left you alone like this if he thought that you weren't capable," Poppy said. "He knew that he... well he knew that he was going to go, not by Snape's hand obviously but somehow, he knew that he was going to die that night. He would have changed it, he would have changed his plans." 

"You think his death is all part of a plan of his?" 

"Aberforth thinks so. He said that Albus never did anything without a plan, without some foresight into the future. He thinks that his death had to occur for some reason, no doubt to enable us to fight Riddle." 

"Why would a plan of his involve his own death? He knew that he was the only person in the world that Riddle was afraid of. Why would he take away our one good and strong net and allow us to fall?" 

Poppy shrugged. "When did we ever know what was going on in his head? Other than when you were in it?"

Minerva pursed her mouth. "But, someone must know," she said thoughtfully. "Somebody must know what his plan is otherwise what was the point in dying if nobody were aware of his reason for it?" 

"Potter," Poppy said simply. 

Minerva thought of the boy, the boy who had been hunted all of his life. She worried about him and thought about him a lot, especially now that he was missing but she knew that she worried because Hermione was with him. She was proud that Hermione was brave enough to stick with him no matter what but she still wished that their friendship hadn't blossomed as it had - Potter was always in danger, which forever put Hermione in danger. But she knew that Harry would never let anything happen to his friends before it happened to him. He was the same as her in that way - Minerva would die before she allowed anything to happen to Poppy. She would have done the same for Ellen, had she not been taken away in such a manner as she had. 

It was Potter who had been with Albus the night he died. It was Potter with whom Albus mysteriously disappeared, only to come back and die within moments. She could still see him, lying on the grass face up towards the stars, his eyes still open and magnificently blue. He had hardly looked dead and for a moment Minerva had foolishly believed him to be alive, that was, until she looked up at the tower looming over them to see the dark figure of Snape, wand still in his hand, peering down. No man, no matter how great and power, would have survived that fall, even if Snape hadn't finished him off before he fell. She saw that face, the sparkling dead eyes, every night before she went to sleep, before she even thought about them as they were when they were alive. 

"You think that he knows?" Minerva asked. "Is that why he's run off without a word? Why Molly hasn't heard from Ron and why I haven't heard from Hermione?" 

"It's the only reasonable explanation," Poppy concluded. "Why else would he of taken Potter with him? Perhaps he has explained all to Harry, perhaps he even told Harry the manner in which he planned to die before Snape..." 

"Killed him," Minerva said flatly. "Before Severus Snape killed him. To think, my daughter loved him. How could she? How could she not have seen-"

"You can't go into that," Poppy said. "Eleanor isn't here to explain it and there is no way that you can explain it for her. Perhaps, when Potter comes back you will know. Do you really have no idea where they are?" 

Minerva shook her head. "No. They disappeared during the raid on Bill's wedding. Molly hasn't heard anything since." 

"And the Grangers?" 

"I went to their house. They do not know Hermione any longer." 

"Oh, Minerva, she didn't!" 

Minerva nodded slowly. 

"She is most definitely your granddaughter. Braver and more selfless than anyone I've ever met." 

"I worry about her every minute of every day," Minerva admitted. "I just wish that I knew something."

"And no-one in the order has heard anything?" 

"No. The three of them have simply vanished." 


	2. The Order

"This isn't safe," Molly whispered urgently into her husbands ear. "The children-"

Arthur sighed and kissed the top of her head quickly. "Look behind you, Molly. The children are with us."

Behind them, huddled against each other stood their four sons; Bill, Charlie, Fred and George. They were men now, all towering above their petite mother, Bill holding onto his pale wife's hand. "But what about Ginny at Hogwarts? Or Percy? Or Ron?" She asked. 

"You'll just have to trust that they know what they are doing," Arthur said, more steadily than he felt. 

"Yes, Mum," Fred said. "And we're here now anyway. We are more likely to get blown to bits standing out here than we are if we go inside." 

Molly closed her eyes, trying to calm the rising the nerves that knotted in her stomach. They didn't have to be here for long, Molly soothed herself. She felt the weight of the box she carried in her hands - Bill and Fleur were staying in the cottage once everybody else left. It was just as if Molly was helping them to move in, that's all. If she convinced herself of that, rather than the truth which was they were attending a meeting of the Order, something that if found out, would result in the slaughter of everyone under the cottage's low roof. 

None of the Weasley's heard the crack that usually came with an apparition and as such, they were all frozen with fear when they heard the crunch of the gravel as a figure marched across it. They all drew their wands, Arthur instinctively pushing himself in front of Molly. The figure came towards them quickly, purposefully, wand held out in front of them.

"Who is it?" Arthur barked. 

The figure stopped. "And who are you?" They cried back. 

"Oh!" Molly smiled, lowering her hand. "It's Minerva!" 

"Molly!" Arthur barked. "You can't just assume anymore."

"Don't be silly!" Molly pushed her husband out of the way and made her way towards her. "It's only Aunt Minerva."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Arthur is right. How do you know that it's me?" 

"Because no one could ever hope to perfect your march," Molly smiled and kissed Minerva's cheek. "How are you?" 

"Fine," Minerva quipped. "Just fine. Arthur, would you let us in? We can't stand around here like sitting ducks." 

"Bloody hell, Professor," George said. "You came quietly. I was about you hex you into kingdom come." 

Minerva laughed dryly. "If you were, Mr Weasley, you would have done it by now. And do you think I wouldn't be able to deflect it?" She arched a brow at him. 

Bill laughed. "She's right. Dumbledore's protege right here, you should know that, George." 

"I thought Harry was?" Fred smirked. 

"Professor McGonagall is the original," Bill said. 

"Could we get on with it?" Minerva asked impatiently. "I do not make a habit of being late." 

Fred opened his mouth to comment but was quickly smacked lightly around the head by his father. 

 

*

 

It was a very different table to the one that Albus had sat at the head of. As Minerva surveyed the faces that peered at her expectantly she couldn't help but list off the missing ones: Lily and James Potter; Frank and Alice Longbottom; Peter Pettigrew; Sirius Black; William Dumbledore; The Prewitt Boys; Alastair Moody; Severus Snape; Eleanor and Albus. All either dead, damaged or traitors. The Order had certainly thinned out and the young faces that had replaced the old were a stark reminder of the brutality of war. Only Molly, Arthur, Poppy and Remus remained, all older and fearful for the young. Molly chewed her bottom lip with a force only a mother's nerves could create, Remus tapped his fingers on the wooden top of the table, his eyes darting back and forth towards his young wife while Poppy sat pale and quiet, overcome with the presence of the lost. 

Minerva was used to sitting within the ranks, watching as Albus so aptly guided them through his carefully calculated plans and dished out the most recent, truthful news. He had known exactly when to speak and when to listen to people's ideas- he had been made to lead. Minerva hadn't. She didn't know why it was decided that she should take over his role. She didn't know how or when it had been decided either. There had been so kind of vote but it had wordlessly been decided that as Albus's wife, she was the next in line. What she couldn't understand was why just being his wife made her qualified to such a role - did they think that she the workings of Albus's mind? Would they be horror stricken to find out that she hardly knew even a slither of what went on his head, that she had never been privy to anything of any importance? She had never lead before, at least not in the sense that they were expecting - she wasn't a ruler, or a soldier or anything really, other than a widowed, childless teacher. 

She was relieved when Remus said: "I'll start." Every face suddenly turned away from her to him. It bought her time to think of something meaningful to say, something that would bring them hope. That was the thing with Albus - he always knew what to say to inspire hope in the Order, to give everyone a sliver to light to hold onto. Minerva wasn't a great talker; a staunch defender, yes, but not an inspirational speaker. Whilst Albus would find the beautiful words to describe the truth and love that remained in the world, Minerva would be barking war cries and baiting for blood before she was able to do that. 

"Somebody needs to go and look for Harry," Remus said. "It's been months without word. What if something has happened to him?" 

Molly gave out a sharp cry. She knew that if something had happened to Harry then it would have happened to all three of them. 

"I'm sorry, Molly," Remus quickly said. "But it must be discussed. We have to find them or at least hear something from them. None of us have any idea what they are doing. Do you know, Minerva?" 

Heads snapped back across to her. She felt her mouth instantly dry up. "No," she croaked. "I have no idea." 

"But didn't Dumbledore say anything?" Fred asked. 

"No," she replied. "He did not." 

"But then, what did you talk about?" George furrowed his brows. "What was there to talk about if not this?" 

She opened her mouth, habit making her instinctively reprimand the boy for impertinence when she remembered that he was no longer her student. Still, she wasn't comfortable with him or his brothers knowing that Albus and Minerva hadn't really been true husband and wife for years. In fact, they had avoided each other for decades until that night when he hadn't told her goodbye until she burst into his office. 

"I don't think that matters, George," Molly said quickly. 

"But-but- really? He didn't say a thing to you?" 

Minerva shook her head. "No, Mr Weasley, Albus didn't say anything to me," she snapped, gaining some of her old stiffness. "There is not one living soul who will know the full story of what he wanted from Harry and Ron and Hermione. Albus didn't work like that." 

"So, is anyone going to look for them?" Remus continued. "I don't mind-"

"No!" Tonks hissed, with a dark threatening look in her eye that made Minerva smile slightly. "No, Remus." 

"But somebody has to!" He protested. 

"Maybe somebody does but it won't be you." 

"You cannot expect me to sit here, buried away waiting for something to happen when I could be helping-" 

"Remus," Tonks warned. "We've talked about this. When the time comes, I won't say no. But I have to with this." 

"This is ridiculous-"

"Nobody has to go," Poppy interrupted. "All three of them are fine." 

Minerva raised her brows with surprise. "Have you seen them?" 

"Is Ron okay? Are they all still together? Are any of them hurt?" Molly whispered urgently, leaning across the table to get Poppy's undivided attention. 

"As I said, they are fine," Poppy turned to Minerva. "I haven't seen them, no." 

"Then how do you know?" Arthur asked. 

"Aberforth," Poppy said. "He told me."

All of the present Order looked at her quizzically. They knew of Aberforth- Molly had met him during her youth- but the rest had never met him, except Minerva of course. They all thought him to be a strange recluse, overshadowed by his brilliant brother. How did he know where Harry and the others were? No one had heard either Harry, Ron or Hermione ever mentioning that they had met the other Dumbledore. 

"How does he know, Poppy?" Molly asked. Her face was caught between the harsh lines of worry and the pale flush of relief. 

"He hasn't said," Poppy replied. "And I can't find out either - he's moved to the pub since I'm staying at the school. Riddle knows about the cottage." 

"I still find it strange that you call him 'Riddle' and we call him 'Voldemort,'" Fred commented. 

"We know him as Riddle," Poppy said. "We went to school with him." 

Fred shrugged, seemingly satisfied with the answer and sank back in his chair, hidden from sight by Molly, who was still sat anxiously straight. Minerva felt terrible for her. She knew that Molly loved her children more than anything else and Ron's disappearance was carving into her bit by bit. Minerva knew that she would have been just the same with Eleanor, why, she felt the same sickening worry about Hermione but she couldn't voice it. Only Poppy, Molly and Arthur knew about Hermione. It had been kept from everyone else for her safety- the only thing which Minerva agreed with Snape on. She wondered if Snape worried about Hermione as Molly did Ron. He had killed a member of her family and shown his alliance with a man who hated what she supposedly was, Muggleborn, but he was still her father. Did he think about her, about the peril that she was in? Did he lose sleep over it? If he were the one who found Potter and his friends, would he denounce them to his master, knowing that it would mean Hermione's sure death? 

"We can't do anything for them," Minerva finally said, though reluctantly. "We are just going to have to trust that Aberforth is right. If any of us were to disappear suddenly then it would raise eyebrows. We would be followed." 

"Dumbledore trusted Harry enough to do this alone, otherwise he would of involved one of us," Remus said. "We will have to leave them to it." 

Minerva watched as Molly struggled to stop her bottom lip from shaking. If she weren't sitting so far away, she would have leaned over and squeezed Molly's hand. When she was about to cry, Molly always looked like Ellen and Minerva had always been there when Ellen cried. Most of the school had always thought Minerva to be cold and heartless but when one of her friends hearts was breaking, Minerva's own heart had always broken with it, no matter what the cause. She was just the same now and seeing her best friend's daughter, her own niece, so sick with worry over her son was hurtful. Minerva just wanted to pull Molly to her and rock her as she had when Molly had been a motherless child. 

"Minerva?"

"Yes?" She turned to Arthur. "Did I miss something? Sorry, I-"

"That's fine," Arthur smiled. "I was asking about the school. And Snape." 

The name hung between them as every person around the table shuffled in their seat. Why did everybody seem to think that Minerva was a china doll? It would take more than the mention of that mans name to shake Minerva's resolve. "What about him?" She asked, her voice steady and un-phased. 

"What has been going on at Hogwarts?" 

Without Hermione on her mind and without having to worry about upsetting Molly with the mention of Ron's name, Minerva finally relaxed a little and launched into a long explanation of the situation at the castle- about Snape's new rules, the vicious Carrow's and the students unbent defiance to the changes. Minerva had always been able to detach herself, to talk on and on without having to think about anything else. 

When she was done and the meeting was coming to an end, she noticed Molly elbow George heard in the ribs. She hissed something through her teeth and suddenly all of the Weasley's were looking at her. Minerva furrowed her brows at them. "What is the matter?" She asked. 

"Nothing!" Molly smiled but her smile was too wide. "Nothing at all, Minerva. We should get going, Arthur has work-"

"No!" Minerva barked as Molly and the Weasley men began to rise from their seats. They all stopped, their faces white and eyes wide. "None of you are going anywhere until I know what is going on." 

They stood straight in a line and Minerva had to hide a smile - they had all at some point been her student and it was good to know that her teaching bark had a lifetime affect on them all. Arthur turned bright red as Molly sighed and shook her head. Beside her, Fred was trying to hide a smirk behind his hand whilst his twin was openly grinning - a habit, Minerva had noticed, that came from his nerves - and the elder two, handsome Bill and kind Charlie, stood close together, their faces lined with sympathy. 

"For God sake, Fred," Molly cried. "Why do you always have to say something?" 

"We told you both to keep your mouths shut," Arthur blustered. 

"Now I have to know," Minerva said. As she looked around the table, she realised that everyone looked a little nervous, including Poppy, who looked as if she might cry. "All of you know what Mr Weasley is talking about except me? What's happened?" 

Poppy grabbed her hand again and squeezed it tightly. "I think that it's best if we don't-"

"I will not be pandered to like a child!" Minerva shouted, pulling her hand away. "Someone is going to tell me right now!" She stamped her foot, as her green eyes blazed with fury. 

To her surprise, as well as everyone else's it seemed, it was Arthur who walked around the table and put his arm around Minerva's shoulders. "A book has been published, Minerva. A book about Albus-"

"Is it bad?" She asked. 

Arthur shrugged. "It isn't a glowing review."

"Aberforth is furious," Poppy said quietly. "Skeeter-"

Minerva groaned and rolled her eyes. "That bloody woman is infuriating. What has she said about Albus?" 

"That he killed his sister," Arthur replied tentatively. 

"What?" 

Poppy stood up. "This isn't right," her voice cracked. "We shouldn't be discussing this, it has nothing to do with the Order. Aberforth-"

"Did he?" Minerva asked Poppy. "Did he?" 

Poppy shrugged. "There was no way of knowing. That's why Aberforth stopped talking to Albus." 

She felt as if she had been winded. During all of her time with Albus she had known that he hadn't told her everything about his life, in fact, he had hardly told her anything but this- this was something she should have known. Had she been married to a murderer? Had she loved a man who had committed the ultimate sin? She felt sick as her stomach twisted, not with disgust but with shame. Did he think that by telling her she would have scorned him in some way? Did he think that she would have thought differently of him? If he had indeed killed his sister it went without saying that it would have been accident. Without intent, murder was a completely different matter. She knew that muggles had a word for it but the wizarding world branded it all the same. Albus would never of meant to kill her and so all Minerva would have felt was pity for him. She knew that it would have tortured him everyday knowing that he may have committed such a horrific crime and all Minerva would have done was love him more. Had she seemed so hard and single minded that he had been afraid to tell her? Or maybe he had just never trusted her enough. 

Had he ever trusted her? The thought seemed more and more unlikely - he had never told her anything. He had barely mentioned Grindlewald until they had gone to the forest; he hadn't told her anything about the Potter's going into hiding; he'd never revealed his plans in regards to Harry. She had always known that he was secretive, that he withheld a lot from her but she never thought that she had done anything that would have shown him that she was that untrustworthy. Throughout their whole marriage there had been a wall, wider and higher than she had ever known. And he wasn't even alive for her to question him about it! She would never know why he hadn't ever told her anything of value, she would never know why he had lived with such great knowledge and never shared it with her. She suddenly felt that familiar feeling that her whole marriage had been a sham, a nothing. She had married him completely, giving him her every thought and feeling and he had never reciprocated and had never intended too. Perhaps that was why it was doomed from the start - he had thought that love would be enough to maintain it. How could a man so clever, so powerful have been so utterly wrong? 

"And I suppose that you knew this...from the very beginning?" She questioned Poppy with a raised brow. 

Nodding dumbly, Poppy whispered: "I'm sorry, Minerva. I'm so very sorry." 

Laughing bitterly, she outstretched her arms in defeat. "I don't know why you think I'm a good leader for us! Look at me! I know nothing about Dumbledore! I was married to him for nearly twenty years, I was in love with him for a decade before that. He didn't tell me anything of any value! How do you expect me to win this? For Christ sake, look at me! The last seventeen years we were estranged! I cannot help you! I cannot help anyone! He has died and left me completely useless-"

"You aren't useless, Minerva," Molly said. "You never have been." 

"We don't look to you as our leader because you were Dumbledore's wife," Remus said quietly. "We look to you because you are fearless and intelligent. I have never seen you as a part of Dumbledore but as your own person." 

"You are wrong!" Minerva declared. "I have never been my own person. It has always been him and it always will be. I am half alive without him, don't you see? Everything you think you know about me is only there because I loved him. Poppy knew it, didn't you?" 

"No, no!" Poppy replied. "I thought as you do. I thought that you were half the person you could have been because of him but I was wrong. My mother pointed that out to me. She told me that no one could see into the future. Who knows who you could have been if Albus had never been a part of your life? I made the assumption that Albus had stopped you from being great but Mother said: 'Minerva is magnificent. What more is there to be?' And she was right. You are magnificent, Minerva." 

"How could he keep that from me?" Minerva said hoarsely. "Why, after all these years, am I not privy to information that the whole world knows?" 

Somehow, she was in Poppy arms. "He must of had he reasons," Poppy said and kissed her cheek. "He loved you, Minerva," she whispered in her ear. "He loved you until the day he died. I can see you beginning to doubt that. I won't let you." 

She closed her eyes and forced back the tears. She would not cry. There were too many people witnessing this scene. Instead, she swallowed and rose from Poppy's arms tall and defiant, her jaw squarely set in a way that she could only do. "I need every one of you to know that should you want Kingsley or Remus or Arthur to lead us, I will not feel thwarted." 

"Ridiculous!" Molly cried. "You are the only one who we would want to do this."

"Agreed," Remus nodded. 

"Fine," Minerva said. "Then I will do my best. I think we should end this now and all go home. It's late." 

As everyone began to filter out, Minerva grabbed Poppy's arm. "I need to talk to Aberforth. Will you come with me?"

 

 


	3. Old Times

The pub was empty. The bar stools sat on top of the tables in complete darkness and the small, square windows were covered with dark, threadbare curtains. Poppy led her through the bar to the empty room at the back and up the stairs. The hallway was just as dark, save for the faint glow of candlelight that escaped through the bottom of the door at the end. The walls were grey and bare, nails hammered in where there had once been pictures hung up. They made their way to the front room, where Aberforth sat on a low sofa in front of the fire. On the mantelpiece above it sat dozens of silver framed photographs- his wedding photo, a photo of William and Poppy, one of Eleanor when she had been a child and one of William on his own, taken just before he died, where he smiled handsomely at the camera, waving with the easiness of life that he had always felt. 

Aberforth's eyes lit up when Poppy leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "This is a surprise! I weren't expecting to see you tonight. How was the meeting?" 

"I've brought Minerva," Poppy said. 

At that Aberforth stood up, as he always did when Minerva entered a room. He beamed at her and pulled her tightly into his arms. "How are you, kid?" He winked. "Bearing up alright?" He had always been fond of Minerva and had always felt that she was too good for his brother. 

"Did he really kill her?" Minerva asked, getting to the point straight away as she always did. 

Aberforth sighed and shook his head. "The book," he mumbled. "I'm guessing that he never told you?" 

She shrugged sadly. "Are you surprised?" She asked. "It came up at the meeting and I need to know. Is it true?" 

"It could have been me," Aberforth admitted. "Or Albus. Or Gellert. There was a fight, a huge row and she was caught in between. We were all young men, fresh out of school with big egos and points to prove. I was shouting at Albus, calling him everything under the sun while that bastard was whispering in his ear, egging him on. I-" he rubbed his forehead. "I don't know how it happened, how she managed to get in the middle. We all threw the spell at each other and before we knew it, she'd been hit." 

"And Albus thought it was him?" 

"I blamed him from the start," he admitted. "I was so angry- heartbroken and angry. I said that even if it wasn't his spell that killed her, he's caused it anyway. He wanted to rule the world with that maniac. That's what we argued about. He was planning the great take over and me and my sister were getting in the way."

Her heart broke, suddenly and at the same time, painfully slow as tears slipped from her bright eyes. "My poor Albus," she whispered, her throat aching. "He carried all of this... by himself," she hung her head and shook it pitifully. "He couldn't tell me. There is something wrong with me and that made him carry his burden. I spent my time thinking how painfully unfair my life could be but he allowed me to tell him. He listened to everything that hurt me in my life and he-he just sat there, silent-" She started to cry hysterically, like a child. Her face scrunched up and she wailed as if the world was ending. "What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing!" Poppy said quickly, leading Minerva to a seat. "Nothing is wrong with you."

Burying her face in her hands, Minerva cried: "There is! There is something wrong with me! He suffered all his life and I never knew. I could have helped him, I could have done something-"

Aberforth sighed. "Even in death he can make you cry on cue," he shook his head. "Minerva, it was his fault if he didn't allow you to help him. Come on, now, you cannot let this upset you."

"But I loved him!" Minerva declared. "And the thought of him being in pain for all those years... it just breaks my heart." She wiped her eyes. "I am a terrible wife."

"That is absurd!" Poppy shouted. "For God sake, Minerva, I know of no woman who put up with more from her husband than you did!"

"He was perfect-"

Poppy raised her hand. "I hate to speak ill of the dead and I know I've done some wrongs but he was not perfect. I will not sit here and listen to you brand yourself something that you were not. I am nowhere near as good a wife as you were." 

Minerva smiled sadly as she looked at Poppy and Aberforth, sat together on the sofa, both completely content. She wanted to retort that Poppy wouldn't know if she would have been as good a wife as Minerva because her husband hadn't wronged her as Albus had Minerva. But that was unkind to Albus- she had forgiven him after all. She had often wondered how two brothers could be so completely different and now she knew the answer; guilt had eaten away at one for most of his life whilst the other harboured blame. Different brothers, different wives - though both Minerva and Poppy were determined, Poppy had always been able to take control of her life with a much firmer grip than Minerva ever had. 

"Look at us," Minerva said quietly. "The very last Dumbledores. And here were are, hiding in the dark because we have no idea what to do, none of us. Quite pitiful really." 

"We aren't the last Dumbledores," Aberforth said. "Hermione is." 

"I don't think that counts," Minerva said quickly. "She isn't really a Dumbledore at all." 

"You'll have to ignore the Snape in her," Poppy smiled wryly. "Can't be helped." 

"That isn't what I mean. Hermione is a Granger. The Granger's are her parents-"

"Not anymore," said Poppy. "They don't know she's alive." 

"What do you mean?" Aberforth asked. 

"Hermione obliviated them," Minerva replied. "No doubt so Riddle wouldn't know anything about them." 

"Oh, that's just..." Aberforth sighed. "I can't believe this is bloody happening again. Barely been fifteen years and we're all scurrying into our little holes again. I didn't like my brother and I'm clever enough to know that we're in trouble without him." 

Minerva shrugged. "I'm not scared to die, I haven't been since Eleanor was killed. Oh! Don't think me brave or naive, I know that when I do die it won't be painlessly. I'll long for the green before my time is over. No, what I mean is my life doesn't mean much to me any longer. There are more important things in this world. I would willingly go as long as everyone else is safe. I've been longing to see Eleanor since the minute she died. Do you know that-" she waved her hand. "No, no, it doesn't matter."

"Go on, Minerva," Poppy said. "Do I know what?" 

Minerva grimaced. "Do you know that I can't," her voice cracked. "I can't remember her voice clearly? No matter how hard I try, I can't remember it. I don't know when I forgot it either. Did I simply wake up one day and the memory of it was gone? Or has it wasted away with time, only I've been so selfish I haven't noticed? I cannot remember my own daughters voice. What kind of a mother am I?" 

"Minerva, darling, it isn't just you," Poppy mumbled, her face turning pink and her wide eyes stretching even wider. "Do you think that I can remember William's? Why, I can hardly picture his face anymore. Of course, I can recall his photograph - that one right there," she indicated to the picture above the fireplace with her head. "But do you think I can see him as he was? If I close my eyes, I can remember events, I can see him there but not in detail. I can't see..." 

Minerva's tears suddenly dried as the ball of anger, of sheer, powerful anger that so often sat in her stomach, emerged. She thought of Snape, happily occupying the office of the man that he murdered; of Riddle, grinning with the power and fear he had created when he was rotten to the core. Why did people like that never suffer? Why were the rewarded by the universe for the atrocities they committed whilst those who were good and kind, like Eleanor and William, have their lives ripped from them? Albus had once said something, something about pitying Riddle because he couldn't love and never would understand the power of it but why did Albus bother? Even if he had a point, how did that explain Snape? Minerva could accuse him of never having loved Eleanor but Albus himself had seen it, even felt it, that night when he had changed Snape's memories. Snape had had the ability to love but that in no way washed away his sins, not in Minerva's eyes. She wondered if he would have killed Albus if Eleanor had still been alive. 

"What are we doing?" She cried. "The only reason we can't remember our own children is because of that bastard! It has nothing to do with what kind of mother's were were." 

Aberforth raised his eyebrows, grinning as he did. He had never heard Minerva use the words he so greatly loved, she was usually poised and eloquent. "You're right of course! You two women sitting sobbing ain't gonna help no one is it?" He smiled and squeezed Poppy's hand. Both women knew that Aberforth wanted to cry with them but wouldn't dare do such a thing. Poppy herself had only seen his bottom lip quiver at William's funeral. When he had been told that William had died he locked himself away, under the pretence that he was having a bath. Poppy had heard him crying and swearing from downstairs but she had known better than to go up to him. 

"Look at us!" Poppy smiled, wiping her eyes. "You'd think we would be better at this!" 

Minerva laughed. "I like to think I am!" 

"I know what will cheer you two up," Aberforth got up and went towards a dusty drinks cabinet that sat in the corner of the room. "A drop of something strong always cheers me up and I know that Minerva isn't adverse to a couple of drinks. I've seen her throw them back!" 

"Really!" Minerva pursed her mouth. "That was one time, Aberforth, it's hardly enough to make a reputation!"

They all laughed as Aberforth pulled out several half-filled bottle, blowing dust off of each. "Firewhiskey for me and Poppy-" 

"I can't-" 

"Abide Firewhiskey, I know, Minerva," Aberforth said, pulling another even dustier bottle out from the back. "It's the first thing you told me about yourself. Remember?" He got back to his feet and summoned three tumblers that came floating in through the serving hatch on the back wall. He poured large measures and distributed them out accordingly. "I'll just leave you the bottle, Minerva."

She hit him lightly on the arm. "I've never had a whole bottle. The only time you've seen me drink was the day I met you and that was because I was fuming with Albus." 

"Albus did me a favour that day," Aberforth said. "I was bloody terrified to come and see you, in our circumstances, you know? But thankfully, Albus was the idiot I know him to be and saved me from Minerva's mighty temper."

"You don't give me enough credit," Minerva said. "I would never have been angry!" 

"I was the man who caused your best friends delicate condition and we weren't married." 

Minerva threw back her drink, as she always did when she treated herself to it, and held out her glass for a refill. "I'm not the one you should have worried about, it's Priscilla I would have been more wary of! How did she take the news." 

Aberforth paled. "Not well, as you can imagine." Both Minerva and Poppy spluttered with laughter. "It isn't funny!" He protested. "That woman frightened me and I'm not ashamed to admit it." 

Poppy sighed. "I wish she was about right now, she'd know what to do. And-" she grinned, her blue eyes alight. "She'd say something wonderful to Snape!" 

Minerva laughed. She could imagine Priscilla Pomfrey, small and stern, berating Snape to within an inch of his life. His dark eyes would be wide with fear as she pointed a boney finger at him before finally losing her temper and drawing her wand on the man. Priscilla would have at least duelled him by now, if not killed him. She would have done more than Minerva had. 

"What I cannot understand is why Albus trusted him so?" Minerva said, gazing into her empty glass thoughtfully. "We all knew he had the dark mark, we all knew..." she looked up at Aberforth, slouched in his chair with eyes just like his brothers and asked: "But why did he trust him?"

Aberforth shrugged. "Just because he was all powerful doesn't meant that he didn't get things wrong, Minerva. He has been wrong about many people."

Minerva thought about the little fat boy, quiet, stuttering Pettigrew who they had all been wrong about. She shook her head as she pictured Sirius, a man who had loved his friend fiercely and who they had all believed had betrayed the Potters in the most horrific way. Albus, up until Harry and Remus had explained Sirius's story, had believed him to be the hand behind the murder. It was strange to think that Albus had ever been wrong about anything, until Minerva looked back on her life with him and realised - he had never done anything right. 

"He was so wrong about his friend Gellert that the whole world paid for it," Aberforth continued. "Though, he tried to repay his debt."

"He did!" Minerva cried fiercely. "I was with him! Albus knew that he had made a mistake-"

"Couldn't bring my sister back though, could he?" Aberforth retorted, his voice tinged with regret. "Nothing could. I stared at that coffin, that little coffin where my sister lay and I realised, ain't nothing bringing her back...so I hit him," he cracked a smile. 

"You hit, Albus?" Poppy asked, shocked. 

He shrugged. "Weren't nothing else I could think to do," he grinned. "Broke his nose...and it made me feel better." 

"Oh," Minerva said, picturing Albus's crooked nose. "I never knew how he broke it." 

"Well, now you know, don't you?" Aberforth laughed bitterly. 

 


	4. The Portrait

Meetings with the Order became sporadic over the next month - Minerva was being watched closely. Every time she turned around there was one of the Carrow's or Snape himself, loitering not far away from her. She received no post for she knew that anything that was sent to her would be read and checked before being handed over to her and her fireplace, which had once been open to the floo network, had been bricked up one Saturday afternoon (not that she would have used it anyway - she wasn't a fool!). She found it extremely difficult to find the time to leave the school, or rather, to find an excuse. She was bitterly disappointed, after all, the Order would have more news about Hermione than she would and as each day passed, Minerva found that her anxiety for the girl grew. The silence, as Molly had once said, was the worst- the not knowing. Of course she knew that Hermione was still alive - to be dead she would have had to have been with Harry and if Potter had been killed, well... they would all know about  _that_ for certain. 

Usually, in her times of strife, Minerva found comfort in her work and the school itself but even that had been taken from her. Hogwarts was quiet, an undercurrent of fear rippled through the halls constantly. Every face was pale and drawn and at every breakfast there was someone missing: pulled out by their parents who were stricken with fear or running away after hearing that their relatives had been hunted down and killed. There was no joy anymore, no light - Hogwarts had always been a home and now it was nothing but a prison. Students, grey faced and head bent, shuffled through the corridors silently. There was no chattering, no laughter and Minerva found the quiet eery. She had never been one to condone rule breaking but she found that sometimes children needed it, to push the boundaries a little even if they did have to suffer detention for their actions but now everybody was too terrified to even forget to do their homework. Punishment had found a new meaning at Hogwarts, the kind of cruel and sadistic meaning that Filch had always longed for. Sometimes, on her rounds, she could hear screaming and she knew that the Carrows were punishing a poor, innocent student. It made Minerva's blood boil and she had spoken out many a time in anger and disgust. 

When Ginny, Neville and Luna had been caught trying to steal the sword from Albus's office, Minerva had defended them as Amycus lifted his wand. It didn't take a genius to know what awful spell he was about to inflict on one and them and Minerva, unable to keep her mouth shut, had jumped in front of them and spat: "Don't you  _dare._ " 

Amycus gave her a twisted grin before opening his mouth again, ready to hex her but Minerva, as always was quicker and suddenly her wand was held out in front of her, her feet firmly planted on the ground, ready to fight. "Do you really want to do that, Minerva?" He sneered. 

"At this moment, there is nothing that would give me more pleasure," Minerva countered. "Come on, Amycus, remember what your master taught you - or are you scared because you know that I will be quicker than you?" 

"Cruci-" He began but Snape jumped in between them. 

"No!" He shouted. "Both of you, lower your wands." Neither of them moved so Snape, between thin, curled lips hissed, " _Now._ " 

Minerva lowered hers as Carrow did. He was still grinning at her, his eyes full of hate. "Shouldn't we tell him we have a troublemaker amongst the staff?" 

"You idiot." Snape said, clearly exasperated. "The Dark Lord has more important things to do then sort out a quarrel between you and Minerva. I am the headmaster, I will sort this. Amycus, I've told you before about raising your wand to the staff-" 

"But it's fine to raise it to students, is it, Snape?" Minerva barked, her brows raised and her eyes full of venom. 

Snape turned to her, his lips pursed as he thought of something to say. For a moment, she realised that her wand was still in her hand - she could easily kill him, now, right here. She should have done and she had nearly made her mind up to when Carrow, bitter in defeat, said something that made her see red. 

"I weren't scared," he snarled. "Why should I be scared? We killed Dumbledore, the great and powerful Albus, so why should I be scared of Dumbledore's whore?" 

Snape suddenly didn't exist as Minerva, quite forgetting that she was a witch and therefore able to case spells, launched herself at Amycus, whose face grew wide with alarm. She heard Ginny gasp and Neville cheer as Minerva landed on Carrow and they both tumbled to the floor. She didn't know if it was because he had mentioned Dumbledore or because he had called her... _that_ but she was attacking him, her small fists plummeting into his chest. She scratched the side of his face and grabbed a tuft of his hair, ready to crack his skull against the stone floor. Before she could however, she was pulled off of him and restrained by Snape, who wrapped his arms tightly around her arms and chest. 

"Get off of me," she spat, pushing him away. The thought of him being anywhere near her made her shudder and she felt her skin crawl beneath her clothes. She looked down at Amycus, who was trying to scramble to his feet. "You might be winning for the moment," she said. "But I will not be spoken to like that. I am old enough and have been through enough to have earned the right to some respect and I will not allow the likes of you to ignore that." 

"Bitch!" Amycus spat. "You'll pay for that, just you watch."

"I'm watching," Minerva cocked a brow and tapped her foot impatiently, earning a quiet laugh from Ginny and Luna. 

"Severus!" Carrow cried. "Aren't you going to do something?" 

"Get up, Amycus and go to your rooms," Snape said, his tone of boredom. "I won't have anything else said. Minerva - take these students back to their common rooms. I'll deal with them in the morning."

Amycus and Snape walked away, Amycus still complaining loudly. Minerva, eyes still narrowed, was breathing hard. She would have continued on her rampage by chasing after them had she not felt a hand on her arm. 

"Professor," Luna smiled. "That was wonderful!" 

"Yeah!" Joined Neville enthusiastically. "He didn't know what had hit him!" 

She smiled gratefully at them. "Thank you but I must say - what did you think you were doing breaking into Snape's office? You could have all been seriously injured."

Neville shrugged. "Ginny said that Harry needed it so we had to try didn't we? Besides, we got to see Dumbledore while we were there."

Minerva felt the colour drain from her face. "Dumbledore?" She asked quietly. 

"Yeah, Snape hasn't got rid of his portrait."

"So you mean to tell me that- that-"

"Snape sits in Dumbledore's office all day long with Dumbledore there, yes," Ginny finished for her. 

"Has that man not got any shame?" Minerva said lowly. 

She couldn't believe that Snape would have the gall to talk to Albus while he sat in his seat. She couldn't believe either that Dumbledore would be in presence of his murderer. She had assumed that the portrait would be empty, at least until Snape was out of the castle, and she felt her heart leap as she thought -  _I can talk to him! I can finally get some answers!_

"Neville," Minerva said steadily. "Take Luna back to Ravenclaw tower and then you and Ginny can both return to the common room. Here," she pulled out a piece of paper and used her wand to quickly write a note and sign it. "Take this but try not to be seen. It just makes things easier in the long run." 

Neville nodded and the three students hurried off, leaving Minerva to turn around and march up the stairs and along the Head's corridor. There was only one place she was going tonight - the Headmaster's office. 

 

*

The magic of Hogwarts never ceased to amaze Minerva. When Umbridge had driven Albus from the castle, the gargoyle had refused her entry, despite her best efforts and the blazing tantrums she had to force it open. And yet it let Severus Snape - the killer of the true Headmaster - in. Why hadn't it stood it's ground and scorned Snape for what he was? She couldn't understand what the difference was as in her mind, both Umbridge and Snape were usurpers, so why was it one rule for one and one for another. 

When she reached the entrance, she felt deflated. Her plan to see Albus surely wouldn't work because the gargoyle wasn't going to permit her to enter; after all she was no longer deputy and she did not know the password. Chewing the corner of her mouth, she tried to think of a possible password. She knew that it would be something dark, something disgusting but she had no idea which one. She had the awful feeling that it might be something along the lines of ' _Mudblood'_ but she found that she could not bring herself to say it. Resolved to leave rather than lower herself to uttering such things, she was shocked enough to gasp quietly when the stairs began to appear. 

"But how?" She whispered to herself as she began the climb upwards and to her surprise, she received her answer. 

"Mrs Dumbledore," was all the stone said and it seemed that that was enough of an explanation. 

She realised that the creature was honour bound to allow Snape entry but that it's true loyalties still sat with Albus and as his wife (or rather, widow, she reminded herself) it opened for her. She had to admit that she was nervous when she reached the door. Partly because she didn't know what Snape would do if he caught her but she quickly pushed that aside with a small shrug - she was determined and if Snape snitched on her to his master she would just have to accept her fate. No, she was nervous because she wasn't sure what she would find. Albus's offices had always been homely and welcoming, even when the worst things were happening around them. Had Snape changed it? Had he burned all of the books that condemned the Dark Arts and clad the walls with the Dark Mark? Would the soft furnishing now be replaced by domineering dark wood- hard and ungiving? Would every trace of her darling Albus be wiped away? 

Eyes closed despite herself, she pushed open the door and as she opened them, let out a long sigh of relief. The sun, brilliant and gold, slanted through the high widows and fell in graceful lines across all of the familiar objects. Albus's desk and well worn chair remained, his books still lined the walls and his rugs, the huge red one by the fire and the dark blue one under the desk still remained as they were even if they were a little threadbare. The only thing that was missing, and it took a while for Minerva to notice as she had been so used to it, was the soft trill of Fawkes. His perch still sat on the desk, brilliantly lit up by the falling sun but painfully bare. Minerva wondered where the magnificent bird was - was he still flying through the clouds, singing his beautifully chilling song of mourning? 

"I wondered when you would come," came the deep voice of Armando Dippet. "Curiosity is a compelling drive."

"Good evening, Headmaster," Minerva smiled politely. His portrait sat next to Albus's which was disappointingly empty. "Do you know where he is?" 

"No," Armando said but Minerva had the feeling that it was a lie. "But he should be back any moment. Why don't you sit down?" 

"I'm fine standing, thank you," Minerva said. She opened her mouth to speak again but it closed quickly, almost involuntarily as the blank frame with ' _Albus Dumbledore'_ written in gold beneath it, was suddenly filled with him. He strolled into the frame with his hands held behind his back, wearing his favourite dark robes and hat, which sat on his grey head at an angle. She caught her breath a she watched him, so real, seemingly alive and for a moment, it was hard to comprehend that it wasn't real him as such and that he was dead and not simply trapped in a frame.

He turned around and beamed at the sight of her. "Minerva!" 

She wanted to smile at him, she really did but she began to think about all of the things he had never told her; all of the secrets that he had kept from her throughout her marriage and she felt the anger rise up in her. She narrowed her eyes and with a straight mouth said: "I never knew you."

He blanched as Armando and Phineas who were nearest to him, lowered their heads and quickly retreated. "What?" 

"Damn it, Albus!" Minerva shouted. "Who are you? What is your plan? Why did you trust Snape? Why didn't you fight him?" 

He stood extremely still, his features steady. Minerva knew that he was processing her questions, searching for the correct answers. This irritated her even more - why, even now, couldn't he be honest? She felt her hands begin to shake and her brows travelled so far up her head even she knew that she was doing it. "Come along, Albus," Minerva quipped. "What lie are you going to throw at me today?" 

Hurt filled his old, dear face. "What's happened?" he asked softly. 

"Apart from your dying and leaving me with absolutely no knowledge of what I am supposed to do or how I am supposed to help!" She shrieked. 

"I told you that I was going to..." Albus shook his head. "Minerva, you didn't ask-"

"Oh, do not give me that!" She countered hotly. "When did you ever give me that chance to ask? The only reason I even saw you that night was because I came looking for you. You said yourself that you had no intention to speak to me!"

"But you did see me, didn't you?" Albus's voice was growing louder with each word. "In the end. But you never mentioned my plans or asked-"

"Good God!" Minerva threw her head back. "This is unbelievable! I was saying goodbye. I was trying to tell you that I still love-" She stopped herself and looked at him again, her jaw squared. "Why didn't you tell me about Ariana?" 

"So you do know..." he looked devastated. "I never wanted you to find out. I couldn't expect you to ever look at me the same again..." 

"That's what you were worried about?" Minerva said, her voice steady but her temper still in full form. "Here I am, claiming to have never known you when really, you've never known me. If you had, you would have known that I would never have looked at you any differently..." she paused. "No, that is wrong. I would have but never in a negative way. I would have loved you more and admired you more for your suffering. I always thought that you went after Grindlewald to right the world but now I know it was for some kind of redemption. Did you spend the whole of your life redeeming for sins that weren't really yours?"

"They were mine," he replied, his voice barely audible. "They still are..."

"I'm sorry that I'm irritated but I cannot deny that I am," Minerva said. "I feel like you never gave me a chance to help you. You never trusted me completely." 

Albus shrugged defeatedly. "I cannot change that now." 

"No," Minerva said tightly. "You can't." 

They were silent, still staring at each other. Minerva felt her temper drain away, as it always did with Albus. She had never been able to stay angry at him and she had to admit that she did resent that weakness a little. But, she concluded, she had know what it was to love; to love someone so wholly and completely that it consumed her and that was worth it. She new that she had to drop the subject and to her horror, the thing she said next nearly broke her. "Do you see Eleanor?" 

His eyes widened. "Minerva, you must know..." he coughed. "I thought you understood the nature of the portraits-"

"Of course I do!" Minerva blushed at her stupidity. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't help- I know that you are an image of yourself only. It is your soul that...travels on." 

He nodded. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," she smiled. "Now, I must go before Snape catches me."

" _Severus_ ," Albus said pointedly. 

"No. Snape," she paused, her brows furrowed quizzically. "You do know what he did? You do know-" 

"Yes," Albus said quickly. "I know. But he is still Severus." 

"He is not!" Minerva declared. "Now, I really must leave. Goodbye, Albus."

He bowed slightly. "Good bye, my dear." 

 


	5. Hermione's Note

Christmas came and went, a lonely, cold Christmas. Most of the students hurried home, all too happy to be leaving the castle when once they had been relieved to be able to stay at school and enjoy the rivalries of the Christmas period. Minerva didn't go down to the feast as she usually did for she doubted that it would hold any of the cheer that Albus had brought with him. It was her first Christmas without him and although she hadn't experienced the traditional family Christmas in many years, she had at least been able to see him in the Great Hall every year, bright eyed and merry. She knew that she wouldn't be able to stand it without him. Poppy had sent her a note inviting her to the pub on Christmas evening but Minerva declined - in these troubling times Poppy and Aberforth deserved a happy day to themselves and Minerva had no intention of bringing her misery with her. 

When the students returned (and there were even less than what had left) Minerva was grateful to be able to settle into some kind of normality again. Granted, it was a strained normality, however, she was grateful for a routine. Routine meant a sense of monotony and she needed monotony so that she wouldn't allow her thoughts to travel into dangerous territory such as Hermione. It was beginning to became painful- the lack of word from them, why, they had heard nothing at all. She tried not to dwell on it for she knew that she might go mad with worry but she did long for word, from Hermione or the Order, from anyone really. Her only comfort was that she knew that nothing awful had happened to her. 

The snow was finally beginning to turn to sleet on the first morning in February. Minerva rose early and quickly drank her tea before pulled her thick wool cloak around her shoulders and began making her way towards the Gryffindor tower. Although her student numbers had dramatically fallen, Minerva still greeted them every morning before they went down for breakfast. She used the pretence that it was to reiterate the new rules that had been brought down upon the castle but really, she just wanted to keep morale up. She knew that the older students were fuming, their anger becoming harder and harder to control whilst the younger students, the first and second years who looked small than ever, were so terrified they barely dared to talk to each other. Although Minerva had always been a strict teacher, curt and forbidding, she had shed some of her coldness in order to help her students. Whilst she couldn't protect them all of the time (for the  _greater good_ , she kept telling herself but it was becoming harder and harder to remember that), she wanted them to know that she would help them in any way that she could. 

"Minerva?"

She stopped cold, her shoulders squaring and becoming shift. She closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath before she turned around slowly, hoping that her face showed her defiance. "Yes?" She quipped. 

Snape pursed his lips and shuffled on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. "Minerva, I wondered..."

"Oh, come on! I have things to do, Headmaster," she said. "What is it you want?" 

He quickly jerked his head around the long corridor and rushed towards her. He grabbed her arm lightly and pulled her into the nearest room, which happened to the dusty, dark broom cupboard that she knew the Weasley twins had once been very familiar with when they hid from Filch. 

"Just what do you think-" 

"For God sake be quiet," Snape sneered. "Do you want to be caught?" 

"I don't understand," Minerva said, her voice lowered. "What is wrong with you?" 

"I need to know...Have you heard anything?" 

"Heard anything?" Minerva raised a brow. 

"From Hermione?" 

Minerva had to fight the urge to spit in his face. Instead, she laughed bitterly. "You must think me quite stupid. I'm not going to tell you anything - do you think I would tell you just so you could go and run to Him the second I've turned my back?" 

"You don't understand!" For a moment, Minerva thought she saw the deepest pain flicker in his abhorrent dark eyes but it was not there long enough for her to come to a decision. "Please, Minerva, she's my-"

"I'm not a fool," she said darkly. "Blood means nothing to you. After all Albus did for you! He was Eleanor's father! Your wife's-"

"Would you just stop it?" Snape snarled. "I don't need a lesson on the family tree. I just want to know how she is, I am worried-"

Minerva held up her hand. "You gave up that right."

His shoulders slumped and Minerva knew that he was defeated. She'd be damned if she was going to ease Snape, though she doubted if that was the reason why he was asking. "I'll bid you good morning, Headmaster," she said shrilly. "I have work to do."

She left him in the cupboard and continued on her way. She wondered why Snape had thought for a moment that Minerva would have told him anything, even if she had known. Surely he would have known that she would die before she told him anything; she thought that everyone knew that she at least had a bit of sense. But she wasn't so full of hatred to be blinded to that fact that she Snape was completely foolish either, after all, he had tricked Albus himself for so many years, so surely he wouldn't think that she would betray them all by telling him any news. Unless...Unless it was desperation that drove him to ask. Was he desperate for news, just as she was? Could he be being eaten up with nerves? Surely he still didn't care about Hermione? Minerva would have thought that after everything Snape had done he wouldn't be capable of caring about anything. 

She had to admit that it shook her resolve a little when she considered that Snape might still care. It was easier to detest him and be repulsed by him when she thought him a cold and evil shell. If he still had some sort of conscience then could he be judged so quickly? What did it say about her then, if she couldn't consider both sides of the argument? On the same note, however, Severus Snape had killed Albus. Whats more, he had betrayed Albus and in doing so, Eleanor, his own wife. His own dead wife who had been killed by the man, the  _creature,_ that Snape now worked for and so clearly worshipped. She wasn't sure what to make of it, though she was leaning towards her usual stance of hating him, but she quickly pushed her deliberations to the back of her mind as entered the common room. 

The fire had been lit and Longbottom and Miss Weasley was sat on the sofa in front of it, silent and blank faced. Longbottom held his wand in his hand, twisting it over and over as Ginny played with her red hair. They were the only two up and the round, usually inviting room was strangely cold in it's emptiness. When the portrait closed with a low thud behind Minerva, both Neville and Ginny jumped to their feet. 

"Where is everyone?" 

"Some have already gone down, they didn't want to be late," Neville said. "The rest I suppose are still upstairs."

Minerva nodded. "I see. And why haven't you two gone down to the hall?" 

"We were..." Neville turned pink. 

"Please do not tell me that you are planning to break into the Headmaster's office again?" Minerva said. "Because that would be foolish."

"But, Professor, we need to get that sword for-"

"It isn't there," Minerva interrupted. "So your efforts will be fruitless." 

"How do you know?" Asked Neville. 

"I've been to the office and it is no longer on the wall. It was not anywhere to be found." 

"But why would you-" Neville began but Ginny hit him hard on the arm. 

"Neville! Of course she went up there," she raised her eyebrows at him. "To see Dumbledore." 

"But Dumbledore is..." and then understanding swept across his face. "I'm sorry, Professor, I-" 

"No need, Longbottom," Minerva smiled. And then she had an idea. "Seeing as I have the both of you alone, I wondered if I could ask you something? Have you heard from any of them?" 

Ginny shook her head. "No. Mum is near demented with worry."

Minerva nodded. "I can imagine. Your mother worries about all of you, all of the time." 

"She worries about you too," Ginny said. "She asks after you every time I see her." 

 

*

Snape avoided her over the next couple of days and Minerva found that she hadn't given him much thought. She was too preoccupied with the most recent news that Aberforth had been taken ill. Poppy was worried to death and she was having trouble trying to hide it - she was more irritable than usual and her usual playful blue eyes were red and surrounded with dark circles. Minerva kept asking if Poppy needed any help but Poppy, who could be as stubborn as Minerva herself, stoutly refused. She reminded Minerva of Priscilla when she did for Priscilla had been completely independent. Poppy had refused her help so vehemently that Minerva was surprised to find Poppy burst through her door late one evening, just as Minerva drowned her fire in ready for bed. 

"Minerva-you must come!" Poppy cried. When Minerva didn't move straight away, she shouted: "Now!" 

"Is it Aberforth, what's happened?" 

"No, no!" Poppy grabbed Minerva by the wrist and began dragging Minerva out of the door. "Just hurry up!" 

They hurried through the castle, careful not to look too dishevelled in case it aroused suspicion. When they left the castle, however, both women started to run towards Hogsmeade and the pub. 

Someone had to be dead, Minerva was sure of it. Perhaps Arthur had been killed at the Ministry or Kingsley caught on the run. She felt bile raising in her throat as she panicked - if someone was dead, what was she going to do? The members of the Order were so throughly depleted as it was, losing people was just going to make the fight harder. How was she going to raise morale when it was already failing fast? What would Albus do? She found herself looking to the black sky as she ran as if begging him or the Gods for an answer. She was going to have to find some strength from somewhere though she had no idea where. She was quite empty, her resolve shaking. What more had she to give? She was already a shell, a ghost as it were, but now she was going to have to bring herself back to life and command the troops just as Albus had so many times. Recent revelations however, had shown that Albus could draw something from nothing, that his abilities hadn't solely been his magical knowledge or skill but his strength of being, the power and tenderness of his soul. Minerva wasn't sure that she had that. 

Upstairs in pub, Aberforth was sitting on the sofa, grey and tired looking. Signs of illness were evident in his hazy, dull eyes and hollow cheeks. He smiled at Minerva, as he always did, but it was an easy smile, it was a smile that took a look of force from a weakened body to summon. Minerva understood why Poppy was so worried, after all, Aberforth wasn't a young man and no doubt the stresses of their current world had taken their toll. She felt a surge of empathy for the both of them - they were of an age where they should be enjoying their time together, rolling blissfully through life until old age ended and death came with a kind and open hand. Instead, they were still fighting; fighting after they had thought the fight had been won over a decade ago, living in the shadows, one eye always looking for the enemy. It was a cruel world that they lived in, a cruel world run by a wicked master. 

"Here," Aberforth said, shoving something into Minerva's hand.

One glance and Minerva knew what it was. She unfolded the piece of paper ferociously, her eyes drinking in every word on the page. At first she just revelled in it's appearance, it's state of being, before she read it. Once, twice, three times - each time devouring every word, hearing every syllable in her head. The works of the classic era could not have been more precious, nor so beloved. A few words, hastily written but to Minerva, they were the world. 

 

_I couldn't sent this to you. I hope Aberforth won't mind - couldn't think of anything else. Safe. So much to do, not a clear idea how. Wishing you well and I hope that you aren't suffering too greatly. Love._

 

_Safe._ Minerva's hands began to tremble as her heart burst with relief -  _Safe._ Hermione needn't of said anything else, it was all Minerva needed. She bit her lip, still looking at the page as it became blurry. She didn't look up until her sudden bought of tears had subsided. 

"Safe," Minerva said with a jubilant grin. 

Poppy took hold of her hand and squeezed it hard. "Safe." 


	6. The Marriage Of Albus Dumbledore

 

 

_Chapter Fifteen: The Marriage of Albus Dumbledore_

_As previously mentioned, Albus was not very good in love. Some men are too sensitive to ever be able to carry it off but Albus, he was too cruel._

_He first came close to marriage when he was twenty-five. "He met Basia in the Spring of his twenty fifth year," Sasha Simmons, aforementioned Basia's brother, exclusively reveals. "I remember that because she begged to be allowed to invite him to my wedding which was in June of that year. I thought him a decent enough fellow and I could see why my sister was attracted to him; he was tall, reasonably built with fashionably styled red hair and blue eyes. Had manners too, of course it was all a front but at the time, he was very impressive. And Basia doted on him. I can still see her hanging on his arm, looking up at him with the eyes of a content doe. She was such a kind girl...That's what made what Albus did worse."_

_It seemed that Albus and Basia were loves young dream. They were often together, taking walks around the park or going for ice cream in Diagon Alley. They were a handsome couple and Basia was a beautiful girl (see pg. 311 for a photograph). Light blonde hair, dark eyes - she was a country beauty, as fresh as a meadow. It is easy to see why Basia so quickly fell in love with Dumbledore - she was a country girl, open hearted and no doubt easily impressed whilst Albus was dashing, life experienced and interesting. It is easy to see the poor girl, so frightfully in love, believing her beloved to be the sweetest man on Earth but, as we know, she should never have trusted him._

_The couple were engaged within a year, a surprising turn of events as Sasha had always suspected that Albus wasn't as interested in his bride-to-be as she was in him. "He was nice to her, of course," Sasha says. "But...Cordial. There was none of the passion that Basia so obviously felt for him. I was surprised when he proposed and for a while, I was worried that it might be because Basia was in a certain condition. I was wrong - thankfully!"_

_Sasha believes that Basia had never been pregnant but what if he was wrong? What if there had been a love child of Albus's, forcing him into marriage? Basia, young and in love, would no doubt have been elated to be carrying Albus's baby. News of a baby would not have been welcomed by Albus. If he were ever having doubts about Basia, and it seems that he may have been, a baby would have been an unwanted complication. They say there is a sense of decency in all men and so, it is this writers belief that Albus proposed marriage to Basia in order to do the right thing. If so, he would never have been happy with the situation._

_About three months into the engagement, three weeks before the wedding was due to take place it was suddenly called off. Basic ran home to her brother and his wife, absolutely heartbroken. In between her sobs, she told her brother that Albus had been unfaithful. Apparently, this lovelorn girl, so sweet in temperament, hadn't been able to forgive him and so somehow found the strength to call of the wedding and get away from the man who had scorned her. Sadly, Basia could never fall in love again and died not more than a decade after this. Sasha, and the writer, believes that Basia died from a broken heart._

_And so Albus had escaped marriage. For the next few decades there are no traces of any relationship until the late 40's. During this time, as history has recorded, Dumbledore duelled his old friend Grindelwald, ultimately defeating him, thus 'redeeming' himself from any past sins. No doubt Albus finally felt as if he had given back to the world and in his own small mindedness, believed that he was now owed something. He celebrated his victory and then returned to his post as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, only this time, there was a new, fresh face amongst the staff and, just like Basia before her, this new professor was going to fall in love with the cold and victorious, Albus Dumbledore._

_Minerva McGonagall is well known and well respected, by some at least. Although now experiencing old age, as a young woman in her twenties she can be described as striking, if a little hard faced.With a pointed chin, square jaw and long black hair, her best asset is her eyes which are emerald green. She is known to be an very powerful witch and very clever so it is no wonder that Dumbledore was drawn to her. It is not known when the relationship started, or how it started but there is one person who knows how it ended and this writer had managed to bag an exclusive interview._

_Vanessa Cole is still beautiful, even in old age. Once a Ministry employee, she now spends her time in Ireland. Tall, thin with long hair and pale blue eyes it is easy to imagine her in the early fifties; graceful, competent and confident. She has and easy smile and a voice as smooth and sweet as honey. "Albus was always at the Ministry during that time," Vanessa says. "The Minster at the time, he relied on Albus a lot. I was the under-secretary so I spent a lot of time around them both. Albus was still red-haired but it was starting to grey. He was always polite and charming. Sometimes we had to wait for the Minster to get back from some emergency and I would make him tea. He would sit at my desk, casually lounging in the seat and speak to me. He asked me about my job, my home life, my love life. He told me that he was married, that his wife was very pretty but unfortunately, she couldn't have any children. **(** **AN: This proved not to be the case as Albus and Minerva's daughter, Eleanor, was born a year after Vanessa Cole and Albus met. Eleanor Dumbledore was killed during the war with You-Know-Who)**. He seemed so sad about that and from the way he acted I felt as if he wasn't in _ _love with his wife anymore. Within weeks of meeting him, we started a passionate affair. This went on for a couple of months until one day, his wife caught us. He ended it with me there and then but that didn't save his marriage. I heard that his wife left him then and didn't take him back."_

_Ms Cole may be right that Minerva left Albus in the sense of departing but it seems that they were merely separated from then on as there is no record that can be found that points to a divorce. It makes this tale of Dumbledore's marriage even more heartbreaking. Any woman reader will feel the plight of Minerva, Mrs Dumbledore, a bright energetic woman who realised early on in her marriage that she would never be enough of her talented, world-renowned husband. It is a pitiful thought that this woman, who caught her husband in bed with another woman, loved and admired him so much that she couldn't bare to divorce him and break their bond completely. Some might see it as a malicious way to trap him but think about it, if you will: it may in reality be a desperate attempt for this poor, pitiful creature to keep her husband, the man she loved._

 

Why? 

Why had she read it? Why had she let all sense and logic leave her? Even as she was opening the book and breaking the spine at the chapter that intrigued her the most, she knew that she was going to regret it. When had Skeeter ever failed in Minerva's low estimations? And yet, Minerva hadn't been able to stop it. From the first line onwards she couldn't stop, she read at speed, flipping over each page eagerly. Each new sentence rilled her up but she just had to continue until finally, it was finished and she slammed the book shut, so angry she was nearly spitting fire. 

It was a disgusting piece of writing, clearly twisted and moulded to suit Skeeter's own ends. Minerva deeply resented the idea of being a pitiful creature - she had never divorced Albus because he had never asked for it. It had never occurred to her that this might look pathetic. She supposed that it did, in a way, for Minerva had never wanted to be broken from him but she would have borne it, had he asked. 

And Skeeter had found that woman! Minerva remembered her, still feeling that twisted sting of hatred. It was odd, she had to admit, finally finding out what her name was. To Minerva, she had always been  _that woman_ and Albus had never divulged a name. That had been a clever move on his part because if he had Minerva would have tried to kill her,she was sure of it. With a slight smile, Minerva knew that Albus hadn't mentioned the name because he knew what she would have done. It was nice to know that Albus did recognise some of her old fight in her, even if she did let him walk all over her. She wondered where Skeeter had found the woman - Minerva had never heard of the name 'Cole' so she couldn't have been very prominent at the Ministry. Part of her wanted to contact Skeeter to find out where the woman lived - in her mind, Ms Cole was the beginning of Minerva's unhappiness, even if that did seem a bit harsh. As far as Minerva was concerned, Vanessa Cole had been the first, of the first one that Minerva knew about at least, and so she had ruined it. 

She wished Albus was with her. She's wished it so much in the past months - out of grief, fear and confusion- but now she just wanted him here to talk. She didn't want to berate him or ask a thousand questions about what she had just read, she simply wished to talk to someone about it and Albus was the only person that she had ever freely spoken too. There was Poppy of course but Minerva tried to avoid the topic of Albus and their marriage as it was just easier that way. What she longed for was the easiness that Minerva had felt with Albus back when they had been husband and wife. She had been able to say anything without judgment, she had been able to rant on and on while Albus sat quietly, listening to and considering every word. He had been wise and that was something she missed. She had missed it whilst he had been alive, in those last decades when he had left her on her own and she missed it now that he was dead. 

Sometimes, Minerva couldn't wait for the final battle that Albus promised would come. She wanted to fight fiercely, defend as many as she could and then be killed just before the victory. If there was a way for her to ensure victory and then die, she would take it. She was done with living without him, she'd been doing it for so long. She was sick and tired of her own misery, of her mind that wound round and round like a clock. She was bored of being the pitiful, grieving widow, who wasn't technically a widow either. Poppy always said that Albus had taken away what Minerva could have been but Minerva knew now that Poppy had been so very wrong - by leaving her Albus had taken away what Minerva  _had_ been. There had once been a time when Minerva had been argumentative, quick, witty and wry. She had also been comical, interesting and engaging. She had loved life, every day there was something to smile about or fly off the handle -why, Minerva even missed her temper! She could remember days when she would get so angry she couldn't see anymore and she could hear her own voice ringing in her ears as she shouted and screeched and barked. She missed being quick enough to be sarcastic or feeling enough to be inspiring. Albus had made her all of that and he had taken it away as well. 

As she threw the book where it belong (onto the fire), Minerva, for the first time, grieved the person she had once been. 

 


	7. When Nothing Happened

"I read that book last night," Minerva said at breakfast. "And then I burnt it." 

Poppy's mouth fell open as she dropped her fork. "Sometimes, I think that you just ask to be wound up." 

Minerva shrugged lightly. "I did get annoyed, hence the burning but I have to admit that I was curious. How could I not be? Within those lines there must be some of the truth. The truth Albus never told me." 

Poppy looked a little embarrassed for moment before she said: "But you shouldn't believe everything-" 

"I'm not a fool," Minerva quipped tightly. "As I said, I was just curious." 

"Why don't you ask Aberforth?" 

Minerva shook  her head. "No. I don't want to dredge up the past for him. Besides, he's been ill, he doesn't need me bothering-"

Poppy smiled wryly. "You could never bother Aberforth. You can do no wrong in his eyes! If I weren't so completely sure that he loves me, I would be worried!" 

"But why? Of course I like him but I don't understand what I've done to earn such admiration." 

"I think... I think he looks at you as if you were Arianna, come back to life. To him, you are the little sister who was taken from him." 

"Oh." Minerva was shocked. She had never thought of that. She felt terribly sad for him, a man who ever after all of these years was still trying to fill the wound that wouldn't close and she felt honoured. Of all the people that Aberforth must have come across in his lifetime, what was it about her that evoked such feelings? Since finding out about Arianna Dumbledore, Minerva had noticed the portrait of the pale brunette girl which hung in the pub. She immediately recognised her as a Dumbledore, for she shared the eyes of her brothers, but there was no resemblance to Minerva at all. Minerva's hair was much darker, or at least had been before age had silvered it and her eyes, though wide like the young girls, were bright green. In addition, Aberforth had never known Minerva when she was a child and sadly, he had never known Arianna as an adult, so what was it about her that made him feel so? Were the feelings forced? Or had he felt it the moment that he had met her? She remembered their first meeting and for the first time read between the lines of what Aberforth was trying to tell her. Yes, it was obvious that he was warning her about Albus and his indiscretions but now she could see that there was something more to it - he had been trying to  _protect_ her. 

She felt a surge of love for him. Of the same type and depth as she had for Poppy. She had always assumed that Poppy was her sister and Aberforth just her sister's husband, who helped Minerva out of duty to his wife but know she knew that she had had a brother all along; the kind, caring and protective brother that he hadn't been allowed to be. All of his words, his shows of respect, his soft teasing were his way of 'brothering' her, for want of a better word. She had never been a little sister, in her own group she was more of the middle child - Poppy the dominant eldest and Ellen the quiet, timid youngest - but she suddenly felt like a child who looked up at her elder brother with nothing but admiration. To know that she was loved and not just by the remnants of her family was... wonderful. 

Poppy grinned. "How long have I been telling you that you are so very lovable, Minerva?" 

Minerva scoffed. "I prefer formidable." 

"Of course you do." Poppy smiled wryly. "I need to talk to you, about the note." 

"Well, go on then." 

"I can't," Poppy said through her teeth. Her eyes shot over Minerva's shoulder. "Dinner," she whispered and squeezed Minerva's hand as she left. 

Minerva turned around in her seat to find Snape standing over her. He didn't look down at her but stood completely still, his black eyes roaming the room. With his lips slightly snarled he asked: "What note?" 

Minerva didn't blanche. She was old and wise enough to think methodically, not to over react. She kept her mouth still and straight, completely dignified. She could hear her heart banging in her ears as she frantically searched her mind for a decent answer but she knew that none of this showed on her stoney face. "What do you mean, Headmaster?" She asked, stalling for time. She could feel the colour begin to drain from her face and she knew that she didn't have long to think of a plausible answer. 

"Come with me," he said quietly. She turned to looked up at him and - there it was again, that trace of desperation on his cold face. She wished that she hadn't seen it for it was so conflicting. She wanted to see him as the murderer and traitor that he was but that flicker, that mild, almost hysterical look made her realise once again that he was a father and that perhaps he felt the loves that most father's felt for their children. But he was a murderer! Her mind screamed at her. How could he be both? 

"I'm sorry," she said, her tone clearly showing that she was not sorry at all, "but I have a lesson to teach. I haven't the time-" 

His eyes, eyes she had seen for so many years, seemed to turn a shade blacker, if that was possible, as he narrowed them at her. His lips turned white with impotent rage and Minerva had to hide a smirk - it was as if her were a child throwing a tantrum and she had to admit that she did take some delight in it. "McGonagall, don't be so difficult. Your lesson can wait." 

"Very well," she held out her hands and rose elegantly from her seat. She followed him out the back of the Great Hall and into the quiet corridor. For a moment she felt a great sadness - this had once been the noisiest part of the school as the students chatted and bickered on their way to their lessons. Now, as they marched in dejected, grey groups, Minerva felt as if her home no longer existed. The stone was cold, the floors hard - before she had hardly noticed, they had been warmed by the dancing oranges of the fires that lit the passages and now all she could see was their jagged, monstrous edges. 

They walked a while, past the stairwell to the potion's rooms and the doorway to the library. Minerva was worried that he might march her up to his office and she felt her skin turn cold with dread. She didn't want to be in that office, not with him and Dumbledore. Sneaking up their and being along with Albus had been a treat - an ill-advised one but a treat none the less - and she didn't want that spoiled by Snape. She didn't know if she would be able to stand before him, as he sat at Albus's desk, knowing that Dumbledore's portrait hung just behind her, knowing that he may be looking at the two of them as they spoke. Thankfully, just as she opened her mouth to tell him that she wouldn't follow him up to the Headmaster's office, he stopped before her own and waited for her to open the door. 

"You have to tell me, Minerva," he said as they entered. He quickly cast a silencing charm. "Please. What note?" 

Minerva pursed her mouth. "I will not. It is nothing that concerns you-" 

"I don't understand how you can be so... so cold!" He shouted. 

Minerva's mouth fell open as a thousand responses caught in her throat. She could feel her temper rise, it filled her body, her face until she started to scream at him: "Cold! My God! Do you really expect me to except such a, a -" the words caught in her throat as they always did when she was in a pure, uncontrollable rage. "Such an assessment from the likes of you! You! You killed my husband! You killed my daughter! I'll be damned before you kill my grandchild, the only family I have left in this cruel and wicked world. A world made cruel and wicked by the likes of you! You cowardly, cunning, sneaking-" And then, before she knew it, her wand was drawn and with neat, delicate movements of her wrist, she began shooting hexes at him. She was going to kill him. She was. As her fist gripped tighter around her wand and her eyes blazed, she relentlessly threw curse after curse at him. 

As he deflected them, he shouted over this din: "This cannot go on, Minerva! We cannot fight all of the time-"

"This isn't a fight," she retorted. "I may be older and slower than I once was but I know that I am much more powerful than you. This is a fight, Snape, I mean to kill you-"

"If you would just listen-"

"No!" She cried. "I will not!"

"Then I have no choice," he hung his head and threw his wand to the floor, stopping Minerva mid hex. "I won't fight you. Kill me if you wish but I won't fight back." 

Minerva was stunned. She was breathing heavily with the earlier effort and she struggled to hide her confusion. "What are you doing, man? Stand up and fight me."

He shook his head. 

"Pick up your wand!" She ordered, stamping her foot. 

"No." 

"I will kill you, Severus," she warned. "I mean it."

"I don't doubt it." 

"Then pick up your wand!" She screeched. She threw a hex across the room, purposefully missing him but he didn't even move. He watched as he missed him by less than an inch and seemed to shrug it off. "Come on, don't make me to be like you. I can't do as you have done - it has to be fair. You have to armed-"

"You need to speak to your husband," Snape said. "You need to understand-" 

"Oh, spare me! Everybody knows that I know nothing about him! I don't need you re-inforcing that fact! It doesn't matter what I do or do not know, I do not trust you, Severus and I never will. You'll have to tear the information you want out of me," she nodded and lowered her wand. They both knew what she meant by that and she stood, unwilling to defend herself, as he picked up his wand. She saw the choice flicker in his eyes but still she did not move. She tensed her body, ready for the pain of that torturous spell, desperately hoping that she would be able to withstand it enough not to tell him anything about Hermione. 

"Minerva, I have to know," he whispered. "I have to know that she is safe." 

"I will not tell you a thing," Minerva's eyes met his, defiant. 

He screwed his face up, raised his wand and said, very quietly: "Crucio." 

But nothing happened. 

*

"What do you mean nothing happened?" Poppy asked urgently as she shot Minerva a worried glance. 

They were in the pub. Aberforth was recovering quickly and Poppy was happier than ever with his recovery. He was still laid out on the sofa, on her orders of course, which he was still grumbling about but to Minerva's surprise he did stay put. Minerva sat opposite, in a sunken armchair with a heavy glass of whiskey in her hand. She sank back in her seat and shrugged. "Nothing happened." 

Poppy furrowed her brow as she chewed her lip. Minerva knew that she wasn't convinced - Poppy had never been very good at hiding her feelings. Aberforth slowly sat up, his face full of thought. Minerva knew what he was going to say, she had already thought it but, it just couldn't be possible. They all knew what Snape was and what he was capable of and so, as Aberforth delivered his theory, Minerva pursed her mouth and raised her brows. 

"He could't have meant it," he said slowly. "We all know that you have to mean it, you have to have the great desire to inflict that sort of pain."

"Of course he meant it," Poppy cried. "Aberforth! You know him, he's capable of murder, of course he wanted to torture the information out of her." 

Aberforth shook his head. "No. He's a powerful wizard, quite capable of casting the spell, probably has done a hundred times before... was he angry?" 

"He dropped his wand. I was trying to kill him. I really wanted to, I can't describe it- I've been angry before but this time... I was blood thirsty. I wanted to be cruel, I wanted to make him suffer, it was as I needed to. I just couldn't believe that he could call me cold...unfeeling when he, he -" she waved her hand. "Anyway, he defended himself for a minute or two and then threw his wand. I told him to pick it up, I screamed at him and he just...stood there." 

"You see?" Aberforth turned to his wife. "He could have hurt Minerva if he had duelled. I'm not saying kill, because we all know that Minerva is more powerful than him but still, he could have tried. And he didn't. He wanted to know about Hermione, that much is clear, and he was desperate enough to try to hurt Minerva to get it. But he didn't  _want_ to hurt her. That's why it didn't work." 

"I don't understand," Poppy remarked. "He could find it within himself to kill Albus but do nothing to Minerva? Come on, Aberforth, Albus was a bigger supporter of Severus much more than Minerva has ever been. It's unlikely that he would kill Dumbledore but not Minerva." 

"Unlikely, but true. He doesn't want to kill you, Minerva. Moreover, he doesn't even want to hurt you." 

Minerva said nothing. She couldn't. Every word that Aberforth had spoken rang alarmingly true and she was more confused about her feelings towards Snape than she had ever been. As Aberforth spoke, it was as if Albus was talking. It was as if he were back in the room with them and Minerva was reminded that the two were brothers. Sometimes it was so easy to forget as they seemed so different but now it was throughly clear that they did share blood. She was tempted to announce the fact with a wry smile, however, she kept quiet, unwilling to annoy Aberforth. 

Instead, she thought about Severus Snape. For the hundredth time she broke him down into the three people she had know; student, son-in-law and murderer. It was so hard not to dwell on the third one. She struggled to disentangle it when she was still so heartbroken at his betrayal and actions. He had killed Albus and still, she couldn't get over it. She still lived in constant shock, shock that he could do it, shock that Albus was dead. It was hard to remember him as man whom her daughter had loved, a man whom she had trusted. How did Eleanor so completely and utterly misjudge him? Surely she would have known what he would be capable of! But then, he hadn't been able to hurt Minerva. 

He hadn't been able to hurt Minerva. He had said the words and yet, as she braced herself, desperately hoping that she would be able to withstand the pain and protect Hermione, nothing happened. It just didn't make sense. Aberforth was right, the technicalities were correct but they just didn't make sense. Why couldn't he do it? Why had he been unable to hurt her? She remembered when he had protected her, or at least had been willing to protect her, when Riddle had arrived at the cottage. That choice had changed what she thought about him. She had been able to see him as a human, an honest, good person and then, years later, he killed the man who had trusted and defended him no matter what. She could re-think and re-think but still, she couldn't answer why he hadn't hurt her. 

It bothered her. She had thought that she was sure of him, sure of who he was and now... 

"Why didn't he do it?" She cried, completely frustrated. "Why?" 

Aberforth leaned over and squeezed her hand. "Nothing is ever as simple as it seems."

"Murder is simple," Minerva replied tartly. 

"Is it? To kill someone is to murder them. But would you kill Tom Riddle, if given the chance? Because I know that I would. And if you or I killed him, we would be murders. Does that make us bad people?" 

Minerva groaned, annoyed that he was right. "Are you justifying his actions?" 

"No. That isn't what I'm saying," Aberforth sighed. "What I'm saying is perhaps we are wrong about Severus. Perhaps is isn't wholly a villain."

"No," Minerva shook her head. "No, I will not accept that." 

And she didn't. Not in that moment at least. 


	8. Midnight At Shell Cottage

Aberforth's words haunted her. She couldn't eat, sleep or even think properly. She had never felt more dazed, more dumbstruck in her life. When Eleanor had been killed, Minerva had felt as if something had hit her, straight in the stomach and she couldn't breathe; when Albus had died she felt as if the world had ended and she was lost in the debris, scurrying around like a frightened child but this, the thought that Snape might be more than she ever thought, had struck her down. 

It was easier to think of him as a villain. She could hate him and stew in it, something that she was particularly good at. But now, she had lost all function, she felt as if she had lost who she was and it was frightening. To make matters worse, Minerva found that sometimes, in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep, curiosity got the best of her. She had done it several times now - thrown the covers off of her, pulled on her dressing gown and began the march to Snape's rooms, ready to demand an explanation. She never made it past her own front door. She always stopped dead. She didn't know if she wanted the answer. She didn't know if the answer that he gave would change her. What if she had been vehemently hating a man who didn't deserve it? What did that say about her? Then again, what if she gave him the benefit of the doubt only for him to lie and show who he really was? But what if he was just a father, suffering with worry about his daughter? What he just needed to know that she was safe? After all, he had given her up so that Riddle wouldn't find her. She could be a better person and relieve him of that worry, soothe him but she was utterly torn - what if he ran and told his master? Then Harry, Ron and Hermione would all be slaughtered, and countless others after them, all because she had lost her resolve and felt sorry for him? 

And then, one night in the middle of April, Poppy gave Minerva another note. A note which made Minerva's blood run cold.  _Caught. Escaped. Terrible. Saved others. Running out of time and do not know what to do. Feel broken but still hope. Love._

Caught? Escaped? Caught by who? Minerva's heart was pounding - it was Eleanor all over again. Hermione was going to die, she was going to die, just like Eleanor. And, just like Eleanor, Minerva was being bloody useless. There was nothing she could do, or rather, she was doing nothing and that made it worse. She couldn't get to her, even if she knew where they were, but still, she was doing anything to try to get to them was she? No, she was just sitting in her sitting room, warmed by a dying fire, hands trembling as she read the note. 

"There has to be something!" She cried aloud, stamping her foot impatiently. She started pacing the floor, something Albus had always done, racking her brains. She couldn't go to the pub, besides, she doubted if Aberforth knew exactly where they were for he hadn't mentioned it before. He was her only contact with them, even Molly - 

Molly! If Minerva was getting messages then perhaps Molly was! Yes, Molly might know. In desperation, Minerva hurried into her bedroom, snatched her cloak out of the wardrobe and, as she buttoned it up around her neck, made way for the front door. But she stopped. Where was Molly? The Burrow had been empty for weeks, they had been forced to leave, all of them and Ginny hadn't returned to Hogwarts after going home at Easter. There were not many places that The Weasley's could go, for one there were a lot of them and Minerva knew that Molly would not have them separated, she was already overwrought with Ron being away, and secondly, safe houses were becoming fewer and further between. Ted Tonks was dead, so his home was out, unless they had re-protected it, but even then, Nymphadora was due any day and she wouldn't appreciate a houseful for that. 

Her lips were snarling now; snarling at the irritation she felt at herself for not being able to work this out. There must be some way to find them and a part of Minerva knew that Molly was the key. She tried to slow her swirling mind for a second and slowly, she counted out the Weasley's on her hand: Molly and Arthur, the twins, Ginny, not Percy, possibly Charlie and Bill - but Bill had married, so that made two of them. Bill! Bill was at Shell Cottage, hadn't the last Order meeting been held there? Damn it! She had wasted time, she should have known...

But how was she going to get there? She couldn't disapparate because the path was Hogwarts was streaming with Death Eaters. She could attempt to fight them and would probably win, but, then it would been known that she had left the castle and word would be put out straight away. She might not last long then or, even worse, they might catch Hermione and the others. She turned around, back into the sitting room and paced the floor again by Albus's armchair. The bright moon caught her eye as she passed the window and she stopped to look up at it. Pale and clean, as if there was nothing wrong with the world at all, it was starting to sink behind the Astronomy Tower. She had avoided looking there since Albus died, it was too painful to know that it was up there that he drew his last breath; that up there was where he had been betrayed. But she continued to gaze, hoping pitifully that it might give her an answer and it did. 

She transfigured just as she closed the door. A cat could wander the halls undetected easier than a human but she was still careful to keep to the shadows. She narrowly avoided the Carrow's, who turned the corner just as Minerva began to lithely climb the swirling stairs. When she reached the top, she changed back. This was the last place where Dumbledore has been alive, she wanted to be herself here. It was eerily quiet and still, as if there was no air up here at all. Her heart was pounding in her chest, like a heavy stone, and her hands were trembling. Had she not sent Snape up here, in Albus's time of need? Hadn't she unknowingly orchestrated his betrayal? Her eyes fell upon the place where Albus had stood, and she could almost see his feet popping out beneath lilac robes. She closed her eyes and gingerly moved closer to the edge, until she was where he had stood. She held onto the thick stone wall and leaned over, gazing down, down to the dewy grass below. In her minds eyes, she saw him, her Albus, lying on the floor below, bright eyes staring up at her, so far below her; so far away from her. 

She felt a sharp pang in her heart, which brought her out of her reverie, and back into the present. She needed to get to Hermione. Urgently, she whispered: "Accio broom," a phrase that hadn't rolled from her tongue since her school days and before she knew it, the broom flew silently into her hand. She mounted it with a stifled groan, her old bones and injuries resisted the odd movement, but she ignored them and kicked off from the solid ground without hesitation. 

Despite her woes, despite the dread that filled her everyday now, she couldn't help but smile as she flew through the clouds. And then, she felt as if she might break. Every thought of grief and despair she'd ever had threatened to overcome her and she realised that quite stupidly, she had forgotten about the Dements who hovered around the castle. They hadn't yet appeared but she could feel them coming. She quickly pulled out her wand and, thinking of Albus the night he had proposed in the snow, she blasted a great silver cat which spread across the sky just as those black hooded creatures broke through the wispy clouds. They fell back, writhing in protest, and Minerva could finally break through and fly freely across the sky. She hadn't flown in years; decades, not since she had been triumphant at Quidditch. The air was could up here and she could feel her hair escaping from it's bun. It felt uplifting to fly through the skies, to actually be doing something rather than just sitting away at Hogwarts, chewing her lip and tossing in her bed with worry. She finally felt as if she might be able to help Hermione, no matter how little she did. Minerva was finally doing something. 

A thick cloud obscured her view as she neared but she could hear the lapping of the sea and taste the salt on her tongue. She descended and landed on the sandy shore. She felt a wave of relief - she had made it, with no issues, she hadn't been caught or seen. But just as quickly as she felt relief, she suddenly felt great disappointment. She couldn't see the cottage, of course she couldn't see the cottage, she was no longer a secret keeper. All that laid before her was jagged. grassy rock, empty and lifeless. Damn it! She'd been so close! How could she be so utterly stupid? How was she going to get in, let alone see it? She tapped her wand against her calm thoughtfully. 

"That might work," she whispered and for the second time that night, the silver cat appeared before her. "Bill, it's me, Minerva. I'm on the shore," she said clearly and the cat disappeared. 

She waited, her breath caught in her throat, her blood tingling with anticipation. She waited and waited, she felt the minutes slip by and she hung her head dejected. It hadn't worked, now she would never see Hermione, she would never be know what happened. She winced, throughly disappointed but then she heard footsteps on the sand and drew her wand. 

"Minerva?" 

She could have cried with relief, with joy. "Bill! I need to see Her-Miss Granger. It's urgent." 

"How do you know that she's here?" 

"Your mother send word," Minerva lied quickly. 

She still couldn't see him, it was so dark. 

"Lower your wand." His voice was urgent, almost fearful and she could tell that he didn't trust that she was who she said she was. 

"Here," and she tossed it to him. He must have caught it for she didn't hear it land on the ground. "I am Minerva Dumbledore, Widow of Albus, and when you were thirteen years old, I was forced to give you your first, and I believe, only, detention for failing to complete your homework on time." 

"It is you!" Bill said cheerfully and he emerged from the darkness. "How did you get here?" He asked as he gave her back her wand. 

"I flew." She smirked at his expression of surprise. "An old girl can still handle a broom." 

"Of course, of course," he laughed. "Follow me, mind you don't trip over a rock. Nearly fainted when your patronus emerged in the front room - last thing I was expecting. What do you need to talk to Hermione about?" 

"I'm sorry to have startled you," she said, ignoring his question. "I got all the way here and realised that I wouldn't be able to see it anymore. How are you? And Fleur?" 

"Busy, we have a full house at the moment, but I'll explain that later." 

As he opened the door for her, she caught hold of his arm. "What happened to Hermione? Something about being caught?" 

He grimaced as he lead her into the little sitting room. "Somehow ended up at Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix- well she-" 

Minerva's blood ran cold. Bellatrix. She knew what she was capable of - the Longbottom's were evidence enough of that. "Where is she?" She asked urgently, fire in her voice. "I have to see her." 

Fleur frowned in confusion and opened her mouth to speak but Bill simply nodded and for a moment, Minerva thought she spotted a hint of knowing in his grey eyes. He moved for the narrow, wooden staircase and crept to the first floor, Minerva following closely. "She's in there, Fleur gave her a sleeping draught earlier this afternoon, so she might be a little groggy when you wake her." 

"Thank you," Minerva whispered as she caught hold of his arm and she breathed in deeply before she opened the door. 

It was a tiny,tiny room; a narrow bed sat underneath the window which looked out onto the sea, the walls were painted a dull grey and there was no other furniture apart from a shabby dressing table crammed beneath a low beam. Hermione was asleep on top of the bed, still dressed, one arm under her head and the other hanging over the edge. And when Minerva saw it, so crudely gouged, so violently inflamed, her hands turned into tight fists and she contemplated leaving and making for Malfoy Manor. But Hermione's face stopped her. It caught her breath. It was Eleanor in the bed, sleeping soundly, her face a little pale, faint grey circles under her eyes, but it was Eleanor. 

Minerva was so very tempted to stroke Hermione's cheek softly with her thumb, just as she used to when Eleanor was young but instead Minerva just watched and savoured the moment. It had been years, so very long, since Minerva had had this moment, this moment where everything was beautiful and she was whole again. 

Hermione stirred about ten minutes later and jumped up with a gasp when she noticed Minerva at the end of the bed. "Professor, how did you know-" 

Minerva shrugged elegantly. " I have to admit, it took me longer to work out than I'd care to admit." 

"How did you get here? You didn't dis-" Her eyes widened in alarm. 

"No, no, I flew." 

Hermione furrowed her brow. 

"Bill pulled the same face when I told him. I am quite capable you know," Minerva said wryly with an arched brow. 

"But what if it wasn't safe?" 

Minerva laughed dryly. "Ha! Do not worry about my safety when I've just been told that the three of you somehow ended up in Malfoy Manor," and, as she squeezed Hermione's hand, she said in a softer tone: "What happened?" 

Hermione shook her head. "I can't - not yet. But we're safe now. Luna was there, and Ollivander. Dobby saved us but - Harry buried him as soon as we got back." 

"A horrible loss for Mr Potter." 

"Yes. But we've found out some helpful information-" 

"Ah, yes, Dumbledore's quest. Potter wouldn't tell me a thing - don't worry, I do no expect you too either and I won't ask. I just had to see you, when I saw your note, I was so worried." 

Hermione smiled. "I'm fine. Really. It's been hard, especially when Ron left." 

"Mr Weasley left?" 

"But he came back!" Said Hermione and she launched into the events of the past months, leaving out the most important information, Minerva observed. 

She listened silently, only nodding when she needed to. She had her own opinions of course but, Hermione didn't need to hear them. All she needed was for someone to listen, to understand. A little resentment passed through her; resentment at Albus, for sending Potter into the unknown when he knew well enough that Hermione would join him. Hadn't Minerva followed Albus into the darkness, with no clue as to what they needed to do? Hermione was of her blood, just as much as she was of Dumbledore's and Snape's. Albus must have known that Hermione would risk her life for Potter, and for Weasley, because that was the right thing to do and of course, Minerva was proud of her for it. Minerva's qualms simply rose from fear - fear of losing her last link with Eleanor, fear of losing her grandchild, no matter who thinly the concept related to her. 

"The worst thing," Hermione whispered at the end of her tale. "Is that I feel like I'm lying to them. All of the time." 

"What do you mean?" 

"They do not know who I am. Harry has been very annoyed with Professor Dumbledore, for all of the secrets he kept, and I guess, so have I. I mean, I didn't know him at all did I? I feel the same as Harry but I feel like I cannot voice it because, well, we know that Harry loved him and that he had a soft spot for Harry. So Ron and I, we accept the outbursts, try to console him because he's grieving - but so am I. I can't tell them that. And then there is the added complication of Snape." 

Minerva noticed the drop of 'Professor' and the bitter tone she used and couldn't help but be a little pleased. "The fact that he killed him?" 

"Yes, and that he's, well... you know, my Dad. What if they think that I'm like him?" 

"Do you think Harry is like Riddle?" 

"Of course not!" Hermione said hotly. "But, he isn't actually related to him is he? They do not share blood." 

"They share something," Minerva said. "Potter can see into mind. There is a reason for that connection, I'm sure." 

"I have my theories," Hermione muttered, almost with shame. 

"You sound just like him...Albus," Minerva smiled. "But whatever the reason is, they are still connected and yet they are not alike. You cannot help the sins of your father. Isn't what you are doing now, what you have suffered, proof enough of that?" 

Hermione shrugged. "It doesn't change the fact that I am lying to them though, about who I am. I'm not who they think I am and... I don't really know who I am either." 

"You are Hermione Granger," Minerva said, though the words cut her. "You always will be. You might be my granddaughter, you might be Snape's daughter but you are Miss Granger. Clever, talented, determined. Mr and Mrs Granger - they are your mother and father. They brought you up, they showed you love. You aren't lying to your friends because that is who you are. You shouldn't doubt that." 

Hermione, tears in her eyes, smiled. "I'm so glad you came. I've been thinking of you often, knowing how worried you must be. You say I'm a Granger, and you are probably right, but I am also a Dumbledore. At the Manor, I - I knew if you had been there, you would have-" 

"I would have died to get you out, to stop your pain," Minerva said with deep conviction. "Do not doubt it. I have faced worse than Bellatrix." 

"For my mother?" 

Minerva nodded. "I stood before Riddle himself once, to keep Eleanor safe. And I would so the same for you. You are my blood, Hermione. I would do anything for you, even take to a broom at my age just to see you!" 

Hermione laughed. "I hope, that when the time comes, I will be as brave." 

"You already have been," Minerva whispered. "Now, you should go back to sleep. Perhaps when we see each other next, it will be in a better world." 

 


	9. Minerva's Pity

Tired but elated, Minerva finally arrived just as the sun was threatening to come up. The sky was pale pink, clear and clean, oblivious to the carnage that was unravelling beneath it. Hogwarts, still and illuminated, looked as it had for hundreds of years, a peaceful, enchanted world but within it's stone walls, so much had changed. For a moment, she hovered between the clouds and gazed as it as she had when she had first arrived, an eleven year old girl with such high hopes for the future. She could almost forget that it was no longer a sanctuary, that inside it's professors tortured and ridiculed. She had always thought that the school would remain untouched, that if the wizarding world fell, it would be the last thing to bare the scars of the fight but, as pristine as it looked, it had already been engulfed with misery and pain. All along, Albus had been the only thing that kept it innocently magical, a world of wonder for students to gain skills and knowledge. It had been a place of safety, a home and now that the hand of evil finally had it's hold, Minerva knew that she would have to protect it as much as she would have to protect her students and family. Her whole life, or at least the life she had loved, had been intricately woven with the castle; it had been the scene of her love and heartbreak. It had served as her mainstay through the turbulent years and she felt a fierce duty towards it. Riddle had ripped her life apart but she wasn't going to allow him to rip her home apart. No, no matter what was to come, Minerva would defend this castle, she would not allow it to full into ruin and despair - she would not allow him to have that triumph. He would have her life, just as he had had Albus and Eleanor's, before he had Hogwarts. 

A trail of wind swept up from beneath her, prompting her to descend and land back in the Astronomy tower. She smiled to herself, pleased that she had made it back before even the house elves had risen and shook out her skirts, ready to wander back to her rooms. Before she did, she found herself looking at her feet and stupidly wondering, even hoping, that they stood where his had, as if it meant that she was somehow a part of him again. "Oh, Albus," she whispered to herself with her eyes closed and her head hanging. She wondered if she would ever get used to his absence, if the pain of his loss would ever stop creeping up on her. 

"Please don't say anything more." 

Minerva jumped as Snape emerged from the level below, his waxy face filled with embarrassment and guilt. "I didn't know that you were-" he coughed. "I would have made my presence known earlier."  

Minerva narrowed her eyes. "I didn't say anything," she lied defensively, trying to hide her mortification at being heard at such a vulnerable moment. "What are you doing here, Snape? Are you following me? Because it's becoming tiresome." 

"I know where you have been." 

"You couldn't possibly." 

"They called him before Potter and everybody escaped. He's furious with them all, for letting a few children, a goblin and an elf get away." 

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Minerva said lightly.

"Yes you do. I also know what Bellatrix did." 

"It's nothing compared to what I shall do to her," Minerva spat before she could process the response in her mind. "Fine. I do know what you are referring too but I will not tell you where I have been. I can't." 

"She doesn't fear you." 

"She should."

"I know." 

"You seem to know a lot today," she said, shaking out her skirts once more and making to waltz past him. "I'll bid you good day, Headmaster," she seethed icily. "I have lessons to teach-" 

"At dawn?" He raised a dark brow. Suddenly, the arms that had been crossed across his chest fell open, held defeatedly at his sides, palms up. "Please, Minerva," he pleaded in a strangled voice. "Please, for God sake, have some pity on me. I need to know if she's-" 

"Ha! You forget to whom you speak, Snape. I am not Dumbledore, who forgave and pitied all those who claimed to need redemption. I am not he, who once told me to pity your master because he is incapable of feeling love. I am Minerva, cold and without empathy. I have nothing left but Hermione - don't you see? There is nobody, nobody, left for me except her. I will protect her until my last breath." 

"Do you not see that we are the same? I have nothing left in this world except a girl who I can hardly call my own. I would never-" 

"You betrayed him!" She shrieked. "You murdered him! You took him from me-" 

"Minerva, he'd already left you," Snape whispered softly. "He was already gone." 

Minerva shook her head. "No. He never left. He was here, with us. I could still see him, still hear his voice-" she swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "I was still his wife. There was always the chance and now, I'm his widow. He isn't here, I cannot hear him or see him. He's never coming back," her voice was cracking now. She no longer had the strength for pride and the tears slipped down her gaunt face. "How, Severus, how could you do it?"

"I cannot-" 

"You have asked me to pity you. Then pity me. Tell me how you could do that to him, how you could look upon his face and-and-" she sobbed into her hands. "My husband, Snape. Her father. Eleanor's father. Or have you forgotten her?" She kept her face hidden, terrified that if she lifted her head and saw another living person, no matter if it was Snape, she would fall into his arms and plead for comfort. 

Snape was silent for a moment and Minerva foolishly hoped that he had fled. But then she heard a sharp intake of breath and he said: "I will never forget her. You do not forget the only love of your life." 

"Albus was mine." 

Now, she lifted her head and found him to have moved closer to her. In his black eyes she saw the same immeasurable pain she felt, the same twist of anguish and despair. She had never been so confused in all her life. Bitterness and hatred for the man before her was swirling on the surface but his face, his earnest expression, evoked the deep sympathy she had felt for him before. She thought of her last conversation with Aberforth, she remembered his reasoning; she thought of when Snape had tried to torture her and had been unable. She had always believed that Albus was the most complex man she had ever met but Snape was fast exceeding him. 

"Minerva..." Snape sighed. "I know that you cannot see it but we are alike. We have both lost a part of our souls and now we cling onto the same thing, the same person, the only person who remains. You sleep better at night because you know that she is safe, you know where she is and who she is with. I know nothing. It's as if a cold hand is always wrapped around my throat. I gave her up so that she would live a happy, uncomplicated life but that was in vein. Now, he hunts her as hungrily as he does Potter and her life is in more danger than ever before." 

"But how can I trust you? How do I know that you aren't lying to me?" Minerva searched his eyes, hopelessly looking for an answer. "If Eleanor was still alive, would you have done it? Would you have killed him?" 

"Yes," Snape said with a slight wince. 

She had expected him to lie and was taken aback at his honesty. She surveyed his face, which remained still and flaccid, her own brown furrowed. He was being honest with her, completely open and she felt a grudging respect for him. "I don't understand you." 

"You wouldn't," Snape replied ruefully. "Minerva, I am sorry that you lost Albus. I am sorry that you can't understand. Maybe one day you will. But please, and now I beg you, please tell me everything you know about her." 

His voice was high and strangled with desperation and need. Minerva closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She could feel her resolve melt away and she knew that she was going to give in. She didn't know why but all she could think about was Eleanor - if Eleanor had been in such danger, if she had been attacked as Hermione had been, then Minerva would have given her life to know that she was alright and unharmed. "I must be mad," she whispered and Minerva, who finally knew what it was to feel pity, told him. After all, he had finally made sense to her - they were alike in so many ways. He was a widower, a murderer and she, a widow, would become a murderess, once she caught hold of Bellatrix's throat. 

A light filled Snape's tired face as he listened to Minerva's words intently. They both knew that she was leaving out some elements of the story; such as how the notes were passed from Hermione to Minerva and where Minerva had flown to that night, but she told him enough to ease him. His thin shoulders dropped and his features turned placid with great relief. To Minerva's surprise, he grabbed her hand when she had finished her tail and squeezed it. To her even greater surprise, the touch of his hand didn't repulse her. For the first time in many years, she felt a soft affection for him, a man who for most of his life had been split in two. True, she could never be sure where his true loyalties lied but, in this moment, they were very firmly planted at his daughter's feet. 

"I cannot thank you enough," he said, finally letting go of Minerva's hand. "Now, I can go on." 

"Killing?" The cutting word was out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it and she watched as his face stiffened again and his mouth fell into a straight, white line. 

"No," he replied tightly. "I can go on...with a plan." He sneered, a little joyful contempt glinting in his black eyes and Minerva knew that he was ridiculing her.

"Another plan I don't know about?" Minerva shrugged elegantly. "I've grown used to knowing nothing about the working of my husband's mind."

"He wasn't-"

Minerva held up a hand. "No. I have given you what you asked for and now, I will take my leave," her voice was cold, her gaze icy but her chin was pointed defiantly high. "Good day," and she pushed past him, shoving him into the cold wall. 

 


	10. Hermione Snape

When Minerva saw Bellatrix during the second wave of the tiring battle, her fist wound tighter around her wand, so much so her nails dug into the palm of her hand. Potter might have been dead, Riddle might have been winning, but Minerva was absolutely sure that Lestrange would not, under any circumstances, enjoy Riddle's victory. A few Death Eaters were fighting their way through the Great Hall and as Minerva marched towards the black haired beast, she gracefully ducked and skipped past a through rogue curses which were poorly aimed at her. She was within several feet of the thin woman, who was dancing merrily around the hall, cackling and cursing as if it were a game. Minerva's eyes were fixed on her target, she started to raise her wand and she aimed - 

A burst of hot air narrowly missed the back of Minerva's head and she quickly turned around to fine Riddle, inflated with his victory, pointing his wand at her. Minerva narrowed her eyes at him. Focusing on a new target, one that she was sure she couldn't defeat, she noticed that, held in his long hand was the wand she knew as intricately as her own. It was the wand which she had placed on the bedside cabinet for years, it was the wand that she had sometimes picked up and used for a menial task if hers had not been in her reach. It was the wand with which Albus had done his wonders. His own hand had held it, why he'd even been buried with it - Oh God! She thought of the tomb which she hadn't visited, she thought of him, laying on the cold slab, peaceful in eternal sleep and she felt sick to her stomach with the knowledge that he had been disturbed, that he had been stolen from. 

"Absolutely not," Minerva seethed and with a capable and elegant flick of her wrist she was duelling him.  Never in all her life had she ever been driven by such repulsion. Snape had come close but he hadn't killed Minerva's daughter and then broken in her husband's last resting place to still from him. Nor had Snape killed and tortured his way into history. No, this thing, with the grey skin and red eyes, was more than a man - he was evil in a breathing form, a creature of sickening darkness and pain. 

His mind was quick and his magic powerful but Minerva, with her steely determination and despite her growing age, kept up with him with just a little more effort than usual. She deflected and hurtled hexes at him almost as quick as he did and, to his obvious consternation, she did not have to run about the room to do so. She didn't need the time it took to outwit him by jumping behind a pillar or piece of fallen wall. No, she didn't need to buy time and when she finally saw the flash of green emerge from his wand, she was neither surprised nor terrified. It was his usual spell when all else failed, to just kill on the spot. For all the stories of torture and pain, Minerva had only ever known him to kill with a spell which, when all was said and done, killed instantly, meaning that the poor loser didn't suffer. She wasn't scared of death, as she had said before, and she had expected to be maimed and crying for death before it actually came. 

As she threw a high deflecting spell over herself, she watched as he moved closer towards her. He smiled wryly at her, his nostrils flared and his eyes jeering. She kept her mouth straight, her eyes blazing and her jaw squared. She wasn't scared of him; what he couldn't understand was that she had already lived through her very worst fears, and to die would only be a release. He would never understand that, he would see her accepting defeat as weakness but she didn't care. When she raised her brows defiantly at him, almost challenging him to try something clever and new, he blanched for a moment. A little confusion filled his face until he snorted and Minerva knew that he could remember their last encounter, at Poppy's cottage, when he had almost been in awe of her defiance. And then, suddenly and unexpectedly he laughed. It was the same shrill that Minerva had heard before but this time, she didn't jump or shiver. This time she simply shrugged. 

"I remember how I struggled to evoke fear in you before," he said with a grin. "I did in the end. But I expect that you are not fool enough to fear me now. You have nobody left to lose..." his head turned to where Bellatrix had been fighting and to Minerva's horror, she saw Ginny Weasley and Hermione duelling her. "Ah, but I think you do...She's particularly enchanting isn't she? I was told that Bellatrix did a little branding on her. Don't worry, Minerva, I put her to rights. There is nothing muggle about her, is there?" 

"There is," Minerva said proudly. "Her mother and father are fine muggles-" 

"You think that I don't know? My, my, Minerva, I do not know whether you are stupid or in denial. Of course I know! The pretty girl whom my dear Bellatrix is going to kill is no mudblood. She is a blend of Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape... Do you think that she could be turned like her father? I would of course forgive any child of Snape's for her previous loyalties to the late Mr Potter." 

"You stay away from her," Minerva snarled but her eyes were still fixed on Hermione who was fighting as best she could. Minerva knew Bellatrix, however, and she knew that she wouldn't abide by any rules of honour or otherwise. She wanted desperately to step in but she couldn't leave Riddle without being killed herself. 

"I can call off the dogs," Riddle said lightly. "I do not want to lose another Snape anymore than I would want to waste you-" 

Minerva turned her attention back to Riddle. Now was the moment, the moment Albus had foreseen, when she, like everybody else, would have to chose between right and wrong. She could save Hermione's life with one simply word and she could save her own. She knew that if Hermione were not a part of the dilemma, she would spit at Riddle's feet and open her arms to die but Hermione - how could Minerva condemn her to death? She could put a stop to it, Hermione would no longer be in danger-

"Tempted?" He grinned. 

And then, for the second time, she saw Albus's wand in Riddle's hand and her fury was ignited again. She was a little ashamed of herself for even contemplating giving up but, she would think about that another time, if she had the option. 

"No," Minerva hissed. "You will lose, Tom Riddle. You will not rule the world as you wish. You possess the wand of my husband but let me tell you, you will never be as great as he. For so many years now, you have been tricked and taken a fool of. You will be defeated because you just aren't as powerful as you think you are!" 

"Did Dumbledore ever tell you what this wand is?" Riddle returned icily. He held it up and regarded it as you would a prize. "I don't expect he did. From what Severus told me, Albus didn't tell you anything of any importance. This, Mrs Dumbledore, is the Elder Wand. The legend. The most powerful thing in this world." 

"You're wrong again, Tom. The most powerful thing is love." 

Riddle guffawed. "Oh, you are his creature through and through. I'm disappointed that you of all people could be so foolish. Tell me, Minerva, did you feel powerful when Eleanor died? Did you feel as if you would take over the world? Or did you feel small and hopeless?" 

"Do not speak her name." 

"I killed her myself. And the other Dumbledore, the unimportant one. I usually send one of my faithful followers but I simply could not pass up the chance to kill Eleanor Dumbledore. She was as foolish as you, throwing herself in front of the other one. She certainly had your looks didn't she? Makes you wonder what she saw in our dear Severus," he paused, awaiting a response that Minerva could not give. She hadn't heard the true story of her daughter's death, she had never known that it was Riddle himself who cast the spell. "I knew that it wasn't you whom he was having an affair with. Dumbledore should have been pleased with his work at altering Snape's memories. Even i admit that it was very good magic. It was you who gave it away, at the cottage, when you defended Albus. I thought to myself - why on earth would you defend him so if you wanted Severus. It didn't take me long to work out that I had been deceived." 

"You're lying," Minerva said, one eye on him and the other on Hermione. Ginny and she were managing well enough but Bellatrix was becoming angry and impatient. "If you had known, you would have killed Snape as well as Eleanor. You are much more predictable than you think. You had no idea." 

He had no answer and Minerva's chest puffed up with satisfaction. She was right and he hadn't been able to fool her but it only caused his temper to rise. He gave a great roar and the duel started again, this time much more ferocious than before. Minerva could no longer watch Hermione fully as she needed her wits to ward of Riddle. She was becoming desperate - he wasn't showing any signs of stopping and she wouldn't be able to reach Hermione before she herself was killed - when she heard Molly shout at Lestrange. Even Riddle turned in surprise and they both watched as Molly finally killed Bellatrix. 

That seemed to be the final straw for Riddle, who completely forgot about Minerva and made to take Molly. Minerva went rushing after him, terrified as she predicted what he was about to do. And then. as Minerva resided to what would be her last battle, she saw Harry Potter, emerge from his dead state and everything changed. 

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When it was over, after the relief had changed to grief, Minerva found herself seated on the steps that lead into the castle. She sat alone. leaning against some rubble, twisting her wand with both hands. She was too tired to contemplate the magnitude of the loss. She was too tired to attempt to consider repairing the castle. She just wanted to sit with her eyes closed and feel the morning sun slant across her face. Everything was so beautifully quiet; she could hear the breeze and few cautious birds as they sang; after a night of crashing and banging and turmoil, it felt as if she were in Heaven. 

She hadn't expected to see dawn. She had thought that she would die in the battle and, if the world were fair, she would have. When she thought of all the people they had lost, those who had been so brave and torn down so very cruelly, Minerva felt angered by the injustice of it all. They had all been so young, so loved and Minerva, who had lived a long life, wish it could have been her instead. Why would fate allow her to live when the people who had died still had so much to give? It seemed that death favoured the young and it just wasn't fair. She felt guilty, that she should still breath and look at the sun, when so many eyes had been closed forever. She felt a sharp pang when she thought of Molly, for who but Minerva understood the disbelief and utter desolation poor Molly would be feeling. Thankfully, Poppy had caught hold of Molly, another woman who had lost her son, leaving Minerva to have a minute to herself. She would go into Molly, when she could think of something that she should say, or do. If there was anything at all that Minerva could say because she knew that it wouldn't make anything better. 

"Can I disturb you?" Hermione asked quietly from the doorway. 

Minerva looked up at her and smiled. "Of course," and she moved over to make room for her. As Hermione sat, Minerva had to fight the urge to gather her up in her and arms and squeeze. "I will go in but I just needed a minute." 

"I understand," Hermione said, looking up at the sky. "Mrs Weasley is - well, you know. I don't want to disturb them, they're a family and I-" 

"Where's Mr Potter?" 

"Trying to contact Tonks's mother." 

Minerva nodded but said nothing. She surveyed Hermione's face; a few scraps and bruises, with a little dust, but she looked to be okay. What Minerva noticed however, was the slight grimace, the gentle tapping of Hermione's finger on her leg. 

"What is it?" 

"I kissed Ron."

"Finally," Minerva smiled. 

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "Finally." 

"You do not sound entirely happy about it." 

"Oh no it's brilliant. I'm very pleased because I-" she shook her head. "I have to tell him, Professor. I have to tell him and Harry. Now that everything is over, I can't keep it a secret any longer. I've been lying to them and it has to stop. Only - what if they resent me? What if they can't forgive me?" 

"My darling," Minerva said as she grabbed Hermione's hands gently. "Any true friend will forgive anything... within reason and this is within reason. Potter and Weasley are clever enough to understand." 

Minerva watched as Hermione looked down at her own hand, cupped tightly in Minerva's. Perhaps Minerva shouldn't have done it, after all, Minerva had never done such a thing before, except when Hermione had been traumatised at Shell Cottage, and now Minerva felt guilty. No doubt, now that the battle was over, Hermione's thoughts were with the parents who did not know she existed. She didn't need Minerva, who was so relieved that Hermione was alive she had to keep confirming it to herself, showing that relief to Hermione was selfish. 

"I'm sorry," Minerva muttered, quickly letting go of the girls hand. "I suppose you are thinking about them. You should go and find them." 

"Who?" 

"Your mother and father." 

"Oh," Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know if I should. I mean, they won't know who I am anyway, will they?" 

"You can reserve it," Minerva said quietly. "It's complicated magic but, that has never really been an issue for you." 

A light swept across Hermione's face, the first trace of hope Minerva had seen in it for months. "Really?" Hermione smiled. "I need to find out how-" she rose, looking urgently around her. 

"Sit down, Miss Granger," Minerva said softly. "You shouldn't think about it now. I can help you, when we find some order," she watched with raised brows as Hermione reluctantly resumed her seat. "Anyway, you won't be able to do anything without Potter and Weasley." 

"I suppose," and she bit her lip again, deep in thought and all Minerva could think of was Eleanor. 

"Hermione," Minerva began quietly, not quite looking her in the eye. "Please permit to say something, perhaps it will help you with your dilemma. After having watched you tonight, after having waited whilst you tried to save the world, I have to let you know that your mother, Eleanor, would have been so proud of you," her voice grew thick and with a trembling hand, Minerva reached up and tucked a strand behind of Hermione's hair behind her ear. "She was as brave and loyal as you are, though she had a mischievous streak. You have inherited my studious trait, but...She would have been so very proud. As am I."

Hermione remained silent. 

"Your friends will be proud, too. There is nothing you can say which will make them turn from you." 

"Hermione?" Potter appeared on the steps, dishevelled but determined. "I've been looking for you. Listen I need to talk to you and Ron, something important." 

"I need to tell you something first," Hermione said as she stood and dusted off her trousers. "You and Ron. Professor, will you come with us?" 

Potter's brow furrowed in confusion. "Professor McGonagall?" 

"Yes," Hermione said with a cold determination which resembled Minerva. "It concerns her." 

Minerva didn't bother to hide her wry smile as Potter's jaw dropped to the floor. 

 

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

"I''m sorry," said Ron loudly. "You? A Snape? No. That's ridiculous- have you seen Snape? You're not ugly-"

"Ron," Potter said quietly under his breath. "Stop."

"But I don't understand," Ron continued to bluster. "You are muggle born! Besides, Snape's never been married or even...have you seen him? No, Hermione, you may have knocked your head. You aren't thinking clearly."

They were in the Headmaster's office. Minerva was seated in Albus's chair whilst the three of them sat on the opposite side of the desk. Minerva sat with her back straight and her arms crossed and, watching Weasley's face as it grew redder and redder with confusion, she couldn't hide her smile. Potter had noticed and she could see that he knew that Hermione was telling the truth. 

Hermione turned in her seat to face Potter, leaving a bewildered Ron to sit, gawping at the back of Hermione's head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Harry," Hermione said. "I wanted to but it would have just complicated things. Dumbledore-"

"What has Dumbledore got to do with this?" Ron asked. 

"He was just trying to protect Hermione and Snape, wasn't he?" Harry said and Minerva noticed that there was not the usual bitterness in his voice when he mentioned Snape. It caught her attention and she had to fight the will to question him about it. Minerva knew that Hermione needed to tell her tale first. 

"Not exactly," Hermione replied, turning as red as Ron beside her. "You see, that's why I've brought Professor McGonagall with me-"

"Yeah, that is weird," Ron declared. Minerva raised a thin brow at him and he went purple. "I-I- sorry Professor, but you know, it is weird." 

"Is it, Mr Weasley?" Minerva quipped in her tight teach tone, throughly enjoying Ron's discomfort. 

"I didn't mean-"

"Ron, shut up!" Harry hissed impatiently. "Carry on, Hermione." 

"I don't think I can," she said quietly. "Professor, could you?" 

Minerva sat forward, her elbows resting on the wood desk and her long fingers interlocked. All three of them looked at her intently but Minerva's eyes did not leave Hermione, whose face had gone chalky with fear. "Miss Granger is worried that you might feel a little betrayed," Minerva began slowly. "But you must understand that it isn't her fault. You three, will of course know by now, how important it was to keep as much hidden from Riddle or his followers so that they would not have the upper hand. What Hermione has kept from you was kept secret for that very reason. And when you hear everything, you will completely understand and not hold her accountable, will you?" She barked it as if it were an order and both Harry and Ron nodded slowly. "But I do think that Hermione should start. I can fill in the gaps." 

Hermione's round eyes grew wide with alarm but when Minerva smiled softly at her, Hermione sighed and opened her mouth to speak. 

"Snape was my father," she said dully. "And I know the implications of that. We all know what he was and what he did but, I can't rewrite history. My father was Snape and his wife, my mother, was Eleanor Dumbledore." 

Ron Weasley cried: "Whaaaaaa-" whilst Harry, who had learned over the past year that Dumbledore held many secrets, tried not to look too betrayed. He looked at Hermione's lowered face and then snapped his head up to Dumbledore's portrait, which was disappointedly empty. He pursed his mouth and Minerva could tell that that he was searching his memory for an alikeness between Albus and Hermione. 

"I didn't even know Dumbledore had a daughter," Ron said to Harry. "Did you?" 

Harry shook his head as Hermione said. "There was a chapter in Skeeter's book which mentioned her. And his wife. That's why I never gave you the chance to read it fully, Harry." 

"He had a wife!" Ron's mouth formed the perfect 'O'. 

"Yes," replied Minerva. "Me." 

Whilst Weasley looked as if he might fall from his chair, Potter furrowed his brow. Realisation swept across his face as he looked at Hermione and back at Minerva. "It was always familiar, when you rolled your eyes, Hermione. I always thought I'd seen it before but I never -" he shook his head. "You were married to him, Professor?" 

Minerva waved a hand airily. "Yes but it's a very complicated story. The fact remains that Hermione is my grandchild and Severus Snape's daughter." 

"Hermione...Snape?" Ron questioned. "Snape? Oh my God, I don't - You let your daughter marry Professor Snape?" He shot an accusing look at Minerva, his face twisted a little with disgust. 

"Do not pull that face at me, Mr Weasley," Minerva barked. "Or I shall make sure it stays like that. Yes, I allowed my daughter to marry him because he loved him. And he loved her." 

Ron snorted. "I didn't think he was capable-"

"He was," Harry muttered. "I know he was." 

Minerva nodded. "He was. Albus saw it for himself. Look, Mr Weasley, the long and short of it is, Hermione is a Dumbledore."

"No, she isn't," Harry said. "She is a Snape." 

"But why would Snape kill Dumbledore, if he was married to his daughter? I mean, do you think he told her? Surely she would have said no to?" Ron asked. 

"Eleanor is dead," Minerva said, hiding the wince which always did when she had to say those words. "Riddle...Voldemort, whichever, killed her and her cousin when Hermione was a baby. When Snape found out about it, he took Hermione and gave her to the Granger's. We didn't know where she was until I went to visit her before she started at Hogwarts."

"And that's when you found out?" Harry said. 

Hermione shook her head. "No. Professor McGonagall wanted to tell me and Dumbledore said it was up to Snape. He refused and so it wasn't until I worked it out that everybody finally told me the truth." 

Both boys sat quietly for a minute before Ron suddenly put his arm around her. "So since Dumbledore died, you've been grieving but haven't been able to tell us? Oh, Hermione, that's awful!" Ron squeezed her shoulders. "And to have to live with it, knowing that your own dad killed your grand-dad. Wow, and I thought being a blood traitor was complicated." 

"So Hermione's mother, your daughter, is dead?" Harry asked Minerva, painful understanding filling his face. 

"Eleanor Dumbledore is," Minerva said quickly. "But Hermione's mother, Mrs Granger, is safely in Australia." 

"You don't have to say that," Hermione said gratefully. "I know how it must hurt you to say it. I wish I had known my mother, no doubt she was very much like you." 

Minerva laughed. "No, she was like Albus." 

Suddenly Ron grinned. "I've just realised! You know how we're sort of...seeing each other now? Well, if we get married and have kids and stuff, they'll be part Dumbledore!" 

"Ron!" Hermione hit him lightly on the chest. "Minerva will be your grandmother-in-law." 

And then Ron grew pale as Hermione and Minerva laughed, an identical smile stretched across their faces. 


	11. A Free Man

Ron left the office, still white with shock, to go and be with his mother. Hermione went with him, standing firmly at his side, clasping his arm. Minerva knew that Hermione was relieved - she could now live as openly as she might wish and didn't need to worry about lying to her friends anymore. From behind, with her long body and slender frame, Hermione looked like Eleanor's shadow, not quite identical but identical enough to make out who it was. Had Hermione inherited the red hair which cascaded down her back, she would be Eleanor completely. 

Potter remained, sitting quite still in his seat, his tired face staring at the empty portraits of Albus and Snape. His mouth pursed in thought and he unconsciously touched the thin, fading scar on his forehead. 

"Did you know about, Snape, all along, Professor?" He asked, not looking from the empty portrait. He looked as if he were disappointed to find it empty, as if he wanted to see Snape. 

"I knew he was a Death Eater, yes," Minerva said. "But he told us that he was turning away from that path. You knew Professor Dumbledore, Potter - you know that he believed that Snape was changing his ways. By God, I did, when I saw how much Eleanor loved him, I thought that there must have been some good in him. My daughter was a kind, honest and decent person, I only ever thought that she would be attracted to the same ilk as her. He even tried to save my life once and I believe he would have done, if Albus hadn't arrived but," and Minerva grimaced, "We were all very wrong. You weren't though, were you? You always said that he was a servant obeying a master and we wouldn't hear of it. I'm sorry, Potter, I should have listened." 

"I was wrong." 

"Excuse me?" 

Potter swallowed and Minerva saw tears gather in his green eyes. His pale face became a little pink and he ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Snape saved us all." 

"I don't understand. Care to elaborate, Mr Potter?" Minerva snapped, irritated because of Potter's cryptic words. She liked sense and order, not mysteries like her husband. 

"Snape was only ever on our side. We went to the Shrieking Shack and watched him die. Voldemort didn't kill him in the usual way, he set the snake on him. He didn't bother to watch Snape die, he just left him, convulsing and bleeding on the dirty floor. I don't know why but as I looked at him, his life pouring out of him, I felt sorry for him-"

Minerva scoffed, folding her arms. "He didn't deserve a clean death, after what he did. If he had killed me, it would have been less a traitorous act than killing Albus. Albus was his defender, his mainstay."

"That's what I thought. I stood over him, slightly disgusted that the man who has used him would let him die so painfully, but then something changed. His black eyes seemed to shimmer with pain and loss, but he was not mourning his life. I don't know why but I stayed with him until he drew his last breath. I couldn't leave someone to die on their own, no matter what they had done." 

"That's very noble of you, Potter," Minerva said softly. She was filled with pity for the boy opposite her, who had seen so much and carried such a burden. She doubted that he would even feel relieved now that it was all over because she doubted that he'd ever truly resented the burden placed on him that night when his mother died in front of him and he sat alone in his cot, scarred and bereft. 

"I don't think it was, really. I think I was intrigued," Potter admitted. "Just before he died, he started mumbling and tears came down his face. He kept pointing to them and mumbling. I took them. They were memories, Professor. I saw everything; he didn't kill Professor Dumbledore in the way you think he did." 

"He did, Potter," Minerva said. "He murdered him. You were there. You saw how he ran like the great coward he is-"

"Dumbledore asked him to kill him. Rather, he told Snape to kill him." 

Potter began to explain, his long face imploring her to believe him. Minerva sat quietly, stiffly, her back straight and her hands clasped in her lap. As Potter spoke, Minerva remembered the last night she had seen Albus. He had known that he was going to die that night. Minerva, so worried and so heartbroken, had never thought to ask him how he knew. Now, as the tale unfolded, she could finally piece it together; the little hints and the strange occurrences all fell into place and she felt like a fool for not having realised it. 

She had been so blinded by grief and bitterness that she hadn't been able to see Snape as anything except a murderer, a traitor. She had quite forgotten that Snape had loved and cherished Eleanor, that he had been loyal to Minerva and Albus - that day in the cottage, when she saw him discreetly reach for his wand, it had all been done in good faith. It hadn't been an act, it had been real. Why hadn't she been clever enough to see it? Why did she have to be so stubborn, so opinionated and set in her ways that she hadn't been able to see through the fog? Others claimed that she was quick witted with a clever, clear mind but they were wrong - she hadn't been able to see love when it sat in front of her. 

She leaned her head back and sighed. Thank God she had felt pity for the man and eased his suffering a little by telling him that Hermione was safe. He really had been a concerned father, a father who loved his daughter and wanted to keep her safe. The Snape which Minerva had grown to despise had been an illusion - he had never existed. He had only ever been morally sound, completely brave and deeply in love. He had only ever been capable of purity, of loyalty - Minerva could not boast to have been capable of either. She had turned her back on him, closed her eyes and her ears to his silent pleas and explanations. Now, as Potter spoke, Minerva finally understood just how and why Eleanor had loved him and she knew that Snape had deserved Eleanor just as much as Eleanor had deserved him. 

"Does Hermione know this?" Minerva asked when Potter had finished. 

"I haven't had the chance to tell her yet. I was going to but then she wanted to speak to us about you and Dumbledore-" 

"You have to tell her now. She has to be proud of the father she had," Minerva said urgently. "She was so ashamed of him, so full of self-doubt that she could come from such a man. He deserves love and respect from his daughter, love and respect he has earned. She deserved to know that she had a father who loved her, who was courageous and self-sacrificing." 

"To be fair, Professor, I didn't know that Snape was her dad until about twenty minutes ago. I didn't think it was that urgent," Harry retorted. 

Minerva raised her brows. "Well reasoned, Mr Potter, but now you do know and now you must tell her." 

"I will, but first, I need some advise." 

"Get rid of the wand, Potter. It isn't worth-" 

"I already have. It's gone - wait- how do you know about it?" 

Minerva smiled wryly. "I was married to it's owner. Do you think I am so ignorant that I do not see legend when it sat on my bedside table every night?" 

Potter laughed, his face showing slight embarrassment. "Fair enough. That isn't what I was going to ask though. I want to clear Snape's name. I want to make it known that he was a hero, not Dumbledore's killer." 

"I'm glad to hear it," said Minerva. "And I think you should. I'll help you in any way that I can." 

"Thank you," Potter smiled. "One last question-" 

"Always questions with you," Minerva rolled her eyes but smiled. 

"Did he kill her? Arianna, I mean." 

Minerva sighed. Should she lie to the boy and let his hero remain untarnished? 

"I don't know. Nobody does and they never will." 

Potter looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't think he did."

Minerva smiled warmly. "Then he didn't. Lets decide that now - Albus didn't kill Arianna. Now he can be a free man."


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second instalment of 'No Ordinary Heart' is finished! I hope that it has been as enjoyable as the first. I have to admit that it has been more difficult to write, it seems odd to write about Minerva without Albus as the series is really about them alone but it's been worth it. 
> 
> I'm ready to start something new, whether it be a new series or other works in the 'No Ordinary Heart' series. I have no idea what I want to do or where I want to go with it, so I am up for suggestions! If you have any ideas please let me know and I'll see if I can work on them! In the meantime, I'll try to come up with something - I just love writing about Minerva, she is so much more than a secondary character! 
> 
> HJ x

It was like unpacking a ghost. 

Minerva gently opened the pale pink box, pulled back the crisp tissue and ran her hands over the silk. Still as white as it had been the day it was made, still as exquisite and delicate. It had last touched Eleanor's skin and Minerva couldn't let go. She pulled it out of the box and pressed it close to her, inhaling it. It smelled of jasmine and violet, a mix of Minerva's and Eleanor's perfumes. The scents mingled together and if Minerva closed her eyes she could see them together, embracing. She could feel Eleanor's body in her arms, feel her head resting on Minerva's shoulder. "You are here," she whispered. "You always have been." 

In the next room, Minerva could hear Molly and Poppy fussing and she smiled. It was Eleanor's wedding all over again, that day when Minerva had first felt a slither of happiness since Albus had left her. It had been the most wondrous of days and Minerva wished that this day could only be the same. It wouldn't be for there were so many people missing that the thought of it brought a sharp pain to Minerva's heart but still, Hermione would be with her mother for the first time in so many years. 

As Minerva entered the room with the dress draped over her arm, Molly and Poppy were conferring very seriously by the dressing table with Hermione seated between them. As they discussed the hair style and where the best place was to put the veil, Hermione sat quietly, almost obediently. She looked content and bright, her beautiful face soft and glowing. Minerva knew that Hermione didn't care what her hair looked like or whether the veil would match, she just wanted to be married. Minerva understood; when she had married Albus in the hospital, she wouldn't have cared if she'd married him in a hospital gown with her hair sticking up like a birds nest. She looked at Molly, who was frowning deeply as she listened to Poppy's commands, and remembered the small, blank room in which she had married Arthur. Molly had worn blue instead of white and didn't even have a bouquet as she and Arthur hurried through their vows, desperate to be married in such troubling time. And Poppy (whose little bump had shown through her plain, white dress, much to Priscilla's consternation) and Aberforth had married in Priscilla's garden, beneath a hastily hung canopy, during which they had laughed through their vows. The time, the place, the setting hadn't mattered to any of them and their marriages had been beautiful. 

"Would you leave her alone?" Minerva barked as she laid out the dress neatly on the bed. "She looks lovely as she is." 

"But Minerva-" Poppy began but stopped when Minerva raised her brows at her. "Fine, fine. Your hair really is a pain to tame, Hermione, I'm not sure how much longer it is going to hold." 

"I don't mind," Hermione beamed. "It's better than usual, anyway." She turned in her seat and seeing the dress on the bed, turned pale. "What if it gets ruined?" 

Minerva shrugged. "We can fix it. Besides, the last time it was worn, Molly had three little boys running about the place and William was so drunk he was throwing his drinks everywhere! This dress can take anything that comes today." 

"I'm going to check on, Ron. Make sure that he and Harry are on time - you know what they are like!" Molly smiled. She kissed to top of Hermione's head. "I am so proud of you, dear. I can't wait until you are officially family." 

Both Molly and Hermione suddenly had tears in their eyes. Molly fled quickly and Hermione quickly wiped them away. Over the six years since the Battle of Hogwarts, the two had become great companions. Hermione had helped Molly through her grief, silently and diligently, keeping house whilst Molly cried and shut herself away. Despite the pressure of her studies, Hermione always found time to go to the Burrow, to chat with the lonely Arthur and comfort Molly as she tried to make sense of life. Both Poppy and Minerva had tried to help Molly, after all, they knew how it felt to lose a child, but it seemed that Hermione had had a greater effect and both were pleased that at least somebody could help. In turn, Molly had listened as Hermione worried about her Granger mother and came to terms with her Dumbledore mother. Molly had never had a mother, just Minerva and Poppy as substitutes, and her understanding of Hermione's situation had been a great comfort. 

"You don't have to wear it," Minerva said. "I've told you, I know, but I really mean it-"

"Molly said that her mother made it," Hermione interrupted. "Is that true?" 

"It is," Poppy nodded. "Minerva may have the transfiguration skills but she hasn't the style. Visa Versa for me. Ellen had both. If you had seen the state Minerva was in before we readied her compared to what she looked like during her wedding, well, who knew that such power existed!"

"You didn't tell me that it had been yours originally," Hermione said. "You said it was Eleanor's." 

"I didn't want you to wear it because of me," Minerva said quickly. "I wanted you to make the choice based on your moth-Eleanor." 

Hermione said nothing as she rose from her seat and made for the bed. With a hesitant movement, she ran her hand along the fabric, pausing to look at the tiny buttons up the back. "It is beautiful," she whispered. "You married Professor Dumbledore in this?" 

"Yes," Minerva closed her eyes. 

"Then I have to wear it," Hermione declared. 

"No, you don't." 

"I do. I have never witnessed such a love as yours and Dumbledore's and I didn't even see it when it was whole. The entire castle could feel it, it pulsed through the stone walls. We all knew that you two loved each other and you were separated at that time. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to see it, to be a part of it when it was at it's deepest, it's most powerful. I can feel it now, coming from the dress. It's a once in a lifetime thing, that kind of relationship. We can all love people but you two..." she paused, half-laughing, half-crying. "I am not a believer in fate, as you well know, and I do not believe in a divinity but if anything were to change my mind it would be yours and Dumbledore's relationship. There was never meant to be any path for either of you then a shared path, together. Lily Potter loved Harry like that and it saved his life. If one of you two had died for the other, the one that remained would be almost immortal, like Harry was."

Minerva couldn't speak for the lump in her throat as Hermione caught hold of her hands. "I know that you want me to wear it for my mother but I know that she wore it for the same reasons as I'm going to. So that must be the same thing, right?" 

Tears fell down Minerva's face as she choked: "Right." 

Nobody had ever been able to see hers and Dumbledore's relationship so clearly. They had never fully understood it, why Minerva hadn't, not like that but Hermione, who had only been a part of the remnants, understanding it completely. They had been more than husband and wife, more than soul mates. They had been a part of each other, one soul split in two. It went beyond love, deeper and more wholesome. Sometimes it had been beautiful and easy, others ugly and difficult, but it had been there from the very start and continued to live, despite the fact that one of them was gone. 


End file.
